


Exceptions to the Rule

by Deejaymil



Series: New Beginnings [1]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, BAU Babies, Dysfunctional Family, Fluff, Friendship, Fun, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Team Bonding, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-15 01:27:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 36,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4587813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deejaymil/pseuds/Deejaymil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>JJ expected her college roommate to be into drugs, and she's still not entirely sure that Penelope Garcia isn't. </p>
<p>Derek Morgan just wanted to play football and make something of himself. Then he blows his knee out in the first year and ends up being tutored past failing point by the sixteen year old, Spencer Reid, and his bitchy friend, Emily Prentiss.</p>
<p>Aaron Hotchner is rooming with his best friend, David Rossi, and his girlfriend is furious about it. He's sure that doesn't mean their relationship is a mistake. At least, Aaron doesn't think it does...</p>
<p>It was all beginning to feel like the start of something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Starting Something

**Author's Note:**

> **Thanks to my wonderful beta, Greeneyedconstellations, for her work with editing this piece.**

JJ had heard all the horror stories about college roommates. She fully expected hers to have some sort of drug habit, repulsive hygiene, or perhaps to be a Satanist. Or, possibly worse, she _could_ be rooming with some sort of crazy health nut who would glare at her every time she brought something processed home to eat. She really didn’t need that kind of judgement in her life. But, somehow, her roommate managed to exceed every one of her expectations and then some.

Computer gear littered one side of the narrow room, surrounded by piles of half unpacked bags filled with colourful clothes and novelty pens. A stuffed Scar stared beadily at her from atop what looked like a stack of terrible romance novels, the pages worn thin from repeated readings. JJ pulled her bulging soccer bag close, glancing up at the gilded number on the door anxiously to make sure it _was_ the correct room, even if it looked like a trinket shop had been dropped into an internet café.

Better or worse than satanic rituals? She had a feeling she was going to find out.

Muffled grunting and complaining echoed from two voices on the floor hidden by the twin beds. Hoping desperately that she wasn’t about to interrupt her roommate having sex (with the door open? Really?), she stepped nervously forward. Her parents would be right behind her, ready to see her settled in, and she really didn’t want them to walk in on _that._

“Um… hello? I think this… think this is my room?”

Two heads popped up and stared at her: one female and blonde with ridiculously bright purple glasses, and the other male with sweaty, dark skin and an irritated expression. With a shout of delight, the blonde head leapt up to reveal what was attached to it; an array of colour that JJ had to blink to focus on. She tallied five different sets of beads before she was engulfed in an excited, vanilla scented hug. “Oh my god, it’s you! I’m Penelope! We’re roomies!” Her new roommate didn’t appear to need to breathe between shrieks, not until she released JJ and took a tiny step back. This close to her, JJ could practically count the specks of glitter in her eyeshadow as her roommate flung an arm back to gesture towards the guy, who was now standing with a long plank of wood held awkwardly in his arms. “This hunk of chocolate love is Derek. I found myself being struck by an IKEA malfunction, and he volunteered to be my glorious knight in glistening armour.”

JJ took a moment to breathe and take in the glistening knight who was certainly… something. She blushed, trying not to look like the dorkiest person alive as she stammered: “I’m Jennifer JJ, I mean just… just JJ. You can call me just JJ.”

Derek dropped the wood onto the bed, a thick covering of various stuffed toys muffling the impact, and stuck his arm out to shake her hand. His grip was _just_ the right amount of firm.

Her hands were sweaty. Fuck.

“Hi, just JJ. Derek Morgan, from just down the hall. I heard Pen here losing a battle with her new cupboard and dropped in to help. Nice bag, you play soccer?”

JJ glanced down at her bag and leapt gratefully into a familiar topic. “Captain in my senior year. You?”

“Football, but I’ve played a bit of soccer in my time. I’m bad, though.”

There was a loud groan, and Penelope covered her mouth with her hands in mock horror. “Sports! You guys are both sporty, I’m outnumbered! My entire college life is going to be spent listening to you two bond over sports!”

Derek laughed at the tragic expression on Penelope’s face. “Babygirl, if you promise to make more of those cupcakes you lured me in here with, I’ll talk about whatever you want me to.”

Penelope beamed. “Babygirl, huh?”

A Tupperware container of cupcakes suddenly materialized under JJ’s nose, their delicious buttery scent making her mouth water. Her stomach lurched and rumbled loudly as she sheepishly took one. “It’s been a long drive,” she said, almost apologetic. _Good work, JJ_ , she thought guiltily. _Here five minutes and they’re already feeding you sympathy cupcakes_. The thought of sympathy cupcakes vaporised her hunger and turned the rich taste of the cupcakes to dust in her mouth. She choked it down anyway, not wanting to be rude and hoping they hadn’t noticed her sudden misery. Packing up her childhood room had left her whole family feeling raw.

Her parents arrived noisily behind her, arguing cheerfully about the drive home. They paused, taking in the exuberant appearance of her new roommate and the room itself, which was still liberally decorated with Penelope’s half unpacked bags.

“You must be Mr. and Mrs. JJ!” Penelope said, her eyes lingering on JJ’s face despite her wide smile. “I’m Penelope, and I’ll be looking after your daughter for the duration of her college education, or this semester at least. I begin with _cupcakes_!” She emphasized the last word by offering the container to JJ’s dad. JJ’s mom shook her head at her husband, smiling back. JJ sighed. Her mom had always said that Dad was ruled by his stomach, and here was irrevocable proof.

Penelope pitched in happily to help JJ and her mom unpack, exclaiming in delight over the more colourful of JJ’s wardrobe. Derek, with a charming grin, managed to rope JJ’s dad into helping with the cupboard, the two of them arguing loudly over the positioning of the pieces. JJ glanced at the instructions, but decided that they appeared to be having fun as they were. Only once did she catch her mom getting teary eyed as she folded clothes into a drawer.

“Rosaline would have loved to see this,” her mom whispered, her gaze skittering warily across to Penelope. Penelope looked up, eyes wide behind her bright glasses, before excusing herself and stepping back to point out that one of the panels was on backwards. JJ hugged her mom tight, silently thanking Penelope for letting them have this moment.

Maybe having a roommate wouldn't be so bad after all.

 

* * *

 

Haley frowned, irritably tapping her pen against her lip. Aaron watched her. He loved when she got frustrated while studying, the way she’d scrunch her face in annoyance.

“Problem?” he finally asked, nudging her foot with his shoe.

She signed and dropped the pen onto her book, looking around. The area around the lawn they were slumped on milled with students laughing and chatting together. “Guess this wasn’t the best place to try and study,” she said, leaning back and tossing her hair back with a flick of her head. Aaron enjoyed the sight for a moment before reaching down and taking the book.

“Serves you right for studying history,” he said, paging through the first chapter and pulling a face. “I mean, unless you plan on being unemployed for the rest of your life…” He barely managed to avoid the pen she threw at him.

“Oh! Because law is so interesting,” she retorted, grabbing her book back and smacking him gently with the corner. “Besides, you’ll be plenty successful for the both of us and I’ll… I don’t know, teach maybe.”

Gesturing to the book, he shrugged. “We covered most of that in high school. It’s not so hard.”

Haley rolled her eyes. Her mouth turned upwards at the corner, a tantalizing prospect. He could derail this entire conversation just by leaning over and settling his own mouth… with a jolt, he realized she was still talking, and tried to look like he’d been paying attention. “You covered it maybe. I had better things to do than spend my days reading about dead guys.”

“Like theatre? Practising to be a pirate?” Aaron said, and now he was thinking of her costume and how her tights had looked and, damnit, he really needed to get laid.

Haley laughed and her face flushed. “You should be more grateful for theatre. I mean, it brought us together.” She leaned forward and brushed her lips against his, much to his delight. Even after two years together, his heart still skipped when she kissed him. “Unless you’d prefer I’d spent that time instead learning what thing the Kennedy Brothers were both the first to do…” Aaron declined to answer that, instead choosing to lean into her and deepen the kiss, wrapping his arm around her back and pulling her close…

They weren’t so far from the dorms…

A shadow fell over them, a bag thumped heavily onto the ground near Haley’s leg. Aaron jumped and yelped as his nose bumped against Haley’s cheek, eyes watering at the impact. “Marilyn Monroe,” the shadow said, flopping onto the grass and revealing itself to be David Rossi. Aaron turned to glare at his roommate as he cheerfully helped himself to their leftover lunch.

“What?” Haley asked the newcomer, frowning slightly. She was always polite to Dave, but Aaron had the distinct impression she might actually dislike his friend. After all, there were clues. Subtle clues. Like her flat out informing him that, ‘I really hate your roommate.’ Also, how she would groan every time Dave came up in conversation. Which was probably a lot, really… he was hard to ignore.

“The thing the Kennedy Brothers were the first to do,” Dave clarified, studying the back of the history book. “Marilyn Monroe.” Aaron tried to choke back a laugh and ended up spluttering instead. Haley rolled her eyes, showing him away and standing, snatching her book out of Dave’s hand as she went. He pouted.

“I’ll see you after class, Aaron,” she said coolly, stalking away and leaving him with the distinctly uncomfortable feeling that he’d just hurt her feelings, somehow. He bit at his lip, torn between running after her or staying and talking to his friend.

“You know, I get the feeling your girlfriend doesn’t like me, Aaron,” Dave said, watching Haley disappear into the crowd. “I can’t see why. I am the goddamn light of your life.”

“Bane of my existence maybe,” Aaron corrected him. “She thinks my friends are immature. She’s probably right about you.”

Dave snorted. “She just doesn’t like that I leave my underwear out in the dorm.” Aaron flinched, remembering the last time Haley had gone to pick up her bag and found that it had been resting on a pair of his roommate’s briefs. Probably worn. Almost certainly worn.

“Well you know, I’m not overjoyed about that either,” he said. “It’s only a matter of time before one of us gets them mixed up, and I’m not ready to commit to wearing another guy’s underwear. No matter how weirdly expensive the brand.”

He realized he was talking to himself, Dave’s gaze having shifted to a knot of people across the square from them. Aaron turned to squint in that direction, blinking against sunlight in his eyes. He could just barely see a couple of guys crowded against a much, much smaller figure as it awkwardly hunched into itself and backed up against a wall.

“Isn’t that the kid from our dorm?” Dave asked. “The smart one that Morgan pays to edit his homework?” It was too far away for them to see clearly, but Aaron doubted anyone else on campus was that small. Someone near the kid put their arm out, possibly to help him, but probably not.

“No idea,” he said, feeling the muscles of his jaw tighten in anger. It wasn’t really any of their business, but the kid was like… thirteen. At the most. And Aaron wouldn’t put money on it being a friendly chat.

Both of them seemed to come to a decision at once, standing simultaneously. “Let’s take a wander over there,” Dave said, slipping his bag over one shoulder. “You know, just to have a mosey about. Knock some heads together.”

They jogged towards the group, Aaron half-hoping that he wasn’t about to be dragged into yet another fight. Haley had barely forgiven him for the last time. Half-hoping he was, because who the fuck intimidated a thirteen year old? He already knew that if there was one hair out of place on the kid, Haley was going to be really fucking pissed off with him.

Oh well.

 

* * *

 

Emily Prentiss was not having a good day. She’d spilt coffee on her favourite shirt, been late to a lecture, forgotten her mom’s birthday, and now some pain in the ass kid was getting in her fucking way. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t the best idea to try and score off of the sleaziest guy on campus, but these were desperate times. She was succeeding beautifully in her plan to convince her mother to stay the hell out of her life so far and this would be the final nail in the proverbial maternal coffin. She’d be kicked out so fast, she doubted her ass would even touch the floor. Kicked out, cut off, no more diplomat’s daughter. Finally free to be whoever the hell she wanted. No more tedious Sunday dinners, no more stupid functions. It would be like when Mom was away on business, but permanent. And all she needed were some drugs, whatever the scare flavour of the month was. Simple, right?

She had no intention upon using them, honestly. The kid had no need to be getting so sore over the whole thing, appearing suddenly between her and Sommets and scaring the hell outta the both of them. Then he’d gotten mouthy, and it had all just gone to shit. The kid glared, apparently attempting to intimidate Sommets by staring him down. Maybe it would have worked, if he wasn’t two feet shorter and dressed in an oversized sweater and jeans that were tattered around the ankles from being stepped on.

“Spencer, get out of here,” she snapped. The little idiot was going to end up getting his ass kicked if he kept up smart-mouthing the older guys. They didn’t give a shit that he was only sixteen and too stupid to realize how much trouble he was in, or how much she didn’t deserve him sticking his neck out for her. Sommets’ two buddies moved in closer, cutting off the view of the square behind them. Her heart thumped dully in her chest, vividly aware that this could end with both she and the mini genius getting their faces made intimate with the cobblestone under their feet.

“Opiate overdoses cause an estimated sixty-nine thousand deaths a year,” the kid rattled off, eyes terrified behind coke-bottle thick glasses. When he was scared, he talked ridiculously fast and barely bothered stopping to breathe. A learned habit. “In high doses, it can cause respiratory depression and death, not to mention numerous maladaptive side-effects caused by addiction.”

Sommets stared at Spencer, his face twisted in confusion, hands bunched up into fists. Emily could see the situation spiralling out of control in the way his eyes glittered and his hands shifted. “Is this kid for real, Prentiss?”

Spencer took a step forward, straightening his spine from where he had been hunching in nervously on himself. His eyes met hers as he flat out ignored the other people there. “Besides, the quality of product you’ll get from this guy is obviously negligible. If it were any good, he’d use it himself instead of selling it. Not worth letting yourself get groped over.”

Something in her gut twisted. He was here because he’d seen Sommets grab her ass, not because he was trying to stop her from buying drugs. It was the sweetest and most stupid thing anyone had ever done for her and, goddamn it, she wanted to _hug_ the little shit for it.

Sommets gave a hiss of anger and swung his fist at the back of Spencer’s head. Emily saw the movement and stepped in, letting his fist thump _hard_ against her gut, knocking the air out of her. Wheezing, she bent in two as Spencer stumbled back in shock. _Maybe he thought that no one would dare hit a kid and that’s what gave him the balls to stand up for me,_ she thought dully, having trouble catching her breath, unable to tell him to get the fuck out of there. _Holy fuck, he’s actually insane_ , she decided moments later, as a flailing windmill of arms and legs slammed into Sommets. What the kid lacked in style or skill, he sure as hell made up for in heart, seeming to have no plan beyond smacking at as many parts of Sommets as he could reach. To his credit, it appeared to be working. Of course, she wasn’t overly surprised either when Sommets recovered from his surprise and promptly laid him out with one punch. _Oh god, I hope that was his glasses,_ she thought as there was a visceral crunch as face met ground. She wasn’t quite sure that she’d be able to live with the guilt if it was his face.

Glasses could be replaced.

She couldn’t fight off three pissed off guys, but she did have one weapon. Breathless still, she stepped forward and lay a hand on Sommets arm. “Come on baby,” she murmured, feeling ill and weirdly mortified that Spencer was watching this. She’d slept with Sommets before, but she’d been drunk and it wasn’t an experience she had ever planned on repeating. He was all tongue and questionable hygiene. “You don’t need to worry about some asshole kid, we can do business somewhere else. Somewhere _private_.” Hey, she could at least rationalize this away. There were all the guys she’d brought home to piss off her mother after all; they were probably worse.

Sommets faced her, sneering despite his gaze dropping to her chest. “Gotta teach the brat—”

She never did find out what he planned to teach the ‘brat’ because, right at that moment, there was a rush of air past her ear and a fist slammed into Sommets face, followed by the rest of the person attached to that fist. She’d never been so fucking glad to see someone get punched.

Emily stumbled back with a startled yelp, as the two guys hit the ground in a flurry of fists and grunts. One of Sommets’ goons stepped forward to try and pull the newcomer off but a second guy, this one dark haired and swarthy with a grim expression, stepped between them. “You might want to fuck off,” he warned them, “because my girlfriend has gone for security, and you really don’t want them to find what you’re carrying.”

There was a wet sounding cough and Spencer sat up, one hand holding his shattered frames, the other pressed against his face. Her heart gave a funny sort of skip when she realized that there was blood oozing out from around his tensed fingers, one eye swelling. “Oh man, Spencer,” she groaned, kneeling next to him, “I told you to leave.”

He shook his head, wiping the back of his hand under his nose and smearing blood grotesquely across his entire face. She pulled a disgusted face, reaching into her pockets for some sort of cloth to try and wipe it off. Finding nothing but her purse and keys, she turned to see if tall and cranky had anything she could use. He was watching silently as his companion pinned Sommets to the ground, spitting abuse at him in a colourful array of languages that Emily understood but Sommets almost certainly didn’t.

Lanky glanced at her, then past her at the kid dripping blood down his sweater. “I wasn’t kidding about security, by the way. They’ll be here soon, if you’d prefer not to be.” Anger bubbled up at his words. Asshole probably assumed she was one of Sommets’ junkie mates, judging her because of her clothes and makeup. He must have noticed her pissed off expression. “I wasn’t implying anything,” he stated mildly. She hated him in that moment. Urgh. _Prick._

“Like hell you weren’t,” she snapped back. “That jerk punched me in the gut, why wouldn’t I want to report that? And look what he did to Spencer’s face!”

He shrugged, raising a single eyebrow in a wry expression. She wanted to slap it off his kind of cute face. Almost cute. _Shut up, Emily_ , she thought wildly. _The fuck he is._ “I don’t know your reasoning. Maybe for the same reason that the kid just took off.”

_What?_

Emily span back around, finding the area behind her empty except for a few pieces of glass glinting on the asphalt among a light splattering of blood. “Ah hell,” she said, thinking of the time she’d woken Spencer up to help her with a quiz and how useless and blind he’d been before he’d managed to find his glasses. Without even a cursory glance towards the dark-haired guy, or his friend perched atop Sommets and loudly questioning the dealer’s parentage, she jogged off in the direction she assumed Spencer had gone. After all, the kid had taken a punch to the face for her honour. The least she could do would be to get him back to the dorm and clean him up. It wasn’t like she was looking out for him or anything.

Emily Prentiss didn’t look out for anyone.


	2. Unexpected Falls

Penelope was pretty sure she’d hit the jackpot when it came to roommates. JJ was tidy and polite with a wicked sense of humour. And Derek Morgan, that magnificent man, was making good on his promise to keep dropping in for her cooking. For the first time in years, Penelope was starting to feel like she was making real friends, feeling light for the first time since… well, since she’d left Shane. _Which was completely the right thing to do,_ she told herself firmly, the lump in her throat settling uncomfortably. _Absolutely the right thing to do._

Juggling an armful of books and her room key, the thoughts were knocked out of her mind by a sharp pain as she belted her arm against her doorframe while struggling to unlock it in a hurry, horribly, horribly late to her computer science lecture. The door thumped against something and bounced back into her as she finally got it open, spilling her textbooks everywhere. “Crap!” she exclaimed, before guiltily glancing about. “Damn, damn, _blast_.” Her arm stung where the handle had hit her, and she swung her foot at the closest book in a fit of irritation, trying to kick it into her room. The book gasped as she kicked it. Penelope froze, staring at the book laying on the thin carpet. _Books don’t gasp. Books don’t make any noises, right?_

This was why she preferred computers.

There was a soft scuff of a shoe behind her and she whirled about with a shriek, startling the spectre behind her. The kid from four doors up, the little genius, was pressed against the wall and staring wide eyed at her from behind a mask of dirt and… blood. He was splattered with blood. Something in her gut kicked roughly at the sight of him; her first instinct was to look away in a panic.

Blood reminded her way too much of her parents.

But he wasn’t her parents. He was a kid, just a kid, and she was older and therefore responsible. She had to help him. “Oh jeez, kid, are you okay?” she said, overly loud to hide her shock. He stepped back and stumbled against a doorframe, one hand pressed against the wall as though he was trying to keep his bearings. Penelope recognised that gesture intimately from mornings spent fumbling around her desk for her glasses. “Hey, it’s alright. It’s #104. Did you lose your specs?”

“I…. I fell over,” he said, not meeting her eyes. “I broke them. I have spares in my room though, it’s okay.” He began to sidle along the wall, his fingers leaving trails of blood where he pressed them against the plaster. Probably not the worst the wall had ever had smeared on it, to be completely honest.

Dashing into her room, she shoved bags aside from under her bed and pulled out a half-stocked first aid box before darting back out into the hall and following him up to his room. Luckily, he wasn’t moving quickly, trying to push his bedroom door shut. She shoved her aqua heel against the frame, blocking it and ignoring the owlish way he blinked up at her.

“Alright cream pie, on the bed. Let’s get this gunk off you.”

His eyes darted from the bed to her, calculating. Eventually he must have decided it was easier to comply, because he slunk over and perched awkwardly on the edge of the coverlet. His room looked _massive_ compared to hers. The space that a second roommate would usually take up was filled instead by stacks and stacks of books and journals haphazardly scattered about. There wasn’t an electronic in sight, not even a digital alarm clock. Penelope shuddered as she rooted through the messy kit for some wipes. How could he live without a computer? That was a special kind of hell. “You err… you like books then, I see.” _Glad to see you haven’t lost your knack for communication, Penelope,_ she thought wryly to herself. _No shit he likes books._

The kid shrugged, flinching as she gently wiped his face, trying to avoid where his skin was the most bruised. Nothing looked like it was bleeding copiously, except for his nose and mouth, so she figured it was mostly bruising she had to worry about. Or a concussion. Shit. What did she have to do for a concussion?

“I guess. You should be wearing gloves. There’s a number of blood borne pathogens that you could be exposing yourself to by touching my blood.”

“Well, do you have anything I should be worried about?” she asked him, only half teasing. He was still staring at her in that disconcertingly wide-eyed manner and his voice was thick and snotty. Ick. “Where are your spare goggles, kiddo?”

He pointed at a desk half buried under papers and more books. “No, I’m clean. But proper germ-safety is integral in today’s society. We’re losing the battle against antibiotic resistant bacteria.” Penelope got up and rifled through the desk, finding a battered pair of glasses and slipping them onto his nose. He pushed them up, relaxing slightly as she came into view. “Thanks. That’s much better.” Six wipes later, she’d gotten the worst of it off his face, exposing pale skin that was raw with grazes and mottled bruising across one cheek. He was going to have a hell of a black eye come tomorrow as well. He probed the cut on his lip with his tongue as she daubed antiseptic cream on the worst of the grazes. “I’m Spencer, by the way. Spencer Reid.”

She laughed, realizing she hadn’t even introduced herself to him, just barged into his room and assaulted him with wet wipes. “I’m Penelope, from room 104. I’m the dorm’s Information Oracle.”

He didn’t laugh, just tilted his head slightly and watched her blankly. “I know. You leave food you’ve made by my door sometimes. I didn’t know who was doing it at first, then I saw Morgan with similar items. I… I didn’t eat it for a while. I thought maybe it was someone playing a prank.”

Her heart stung at that. She hated the thought that he had mistrusted her intentions; what had happened to him to make him so cautious? “Oh, you know Morgan?” She refused to pry.

A shrug. “No. Not really. He gets me to help him with his assignments sometimes, but I don’t think he actually knows my name. Not many people remember me.”

Penelope thought that was unlikely. Spencer, even disregarding the age difference between him and everyone else here, didn’t really seem like the kind of person easily forgotten. “Aren’t you some kind of kid genius?” she asked, smacking his hand away from where it was reaching up to poke at his mouth. “Don’t touch that, your hands are filthy.” As he pulled his hand away guiltily, she noted the cuts and bruising across the back of his knuckles. _Fell over, my butt,_ she thought darkly, as she passed him a bunch of wipes and antibacterial wash for his hands.

“I have an IQ of one-hundred and eighty-seven and an eidetic memory,” he told her cautiously. “So yes, technically a genius. For what it’s worth. And I’m not a child, I’m sixteen and working on a PhD.” He looked slightly sheepish at this listing of his skills, and she was floored.

“Well, Mr. Smarty Pants,” she said finally, recovering from her surprise. The kid certainly had a way of making one feel like an underachiever. He didn’t respond to her teasing, just looked down at his shoes, right as the door suddenly rattled. Penelope almost hit the roof in shock, her heart galloping, leaping to her feet and storming to the door without thinking.

“Spencer! Open the damn door! I know you’re in there!” yelled the door-rattler.

Penelope ripped it open and glared at the person on the other side. “Obviously, you have a complete disregard for common courtesy or any respect for doors, but surely knocking just once or twice would be…”

The girl on the other side of the door stared at her with unabashed shock. Penelope took in her dyed dark hair, black makeup, and overall deliberately dishevelled appearance, and came to the conclusion that Spencer was hopelessly in over his head. This was the kind of girl that oozed confidence to hide basket loads of insecurity and teenage boys were like flies to sugar for that combination of messed up hotness.

After all, Penelope _had_ been one of those girls.

“Who the hell are you?” the girl asked, her expression furious.

 

* * *

 

Spencer had a girl in his room. An actual woman, with tits and a skirt and heels and _everything._

The world had gone mad.

“Who the hell are you?” Emily snapped at her, heart thumping dully in her chest. This woman could be here getting his stuff because he’d been taken to the nurse’s station or the hospital. “Where’s Spencer? I’m going to kill him when I find him, I swear.”

The woman raised an eyebrow and put one manicured hand against the doorframe, blocking Emily from pushing past into the room. She called back over her shoulder without breaking eye contact, who rankled at the implied threat. “Do you know this very angry person, sweetheart?”

Spencer was there, and by the sounds of it, he was okay. Emily let out a breath she wasn’t aware she’d been holding. A soft reply from the depths of the room that she couldn’t quite catch, and suddenly the woman moved out of her way, pulling the door back to allow her access. Emily stormed in, refusing to acknowledge the stranger any further. Whatever angry curses she had planned went unsaid though, as she caught sight of the glum figure slumped on the bed. His face was a patchwork of grazes and bruising, and there was a nasty cut across his lower lip that made her own lip sting in sympathy.

“Oh, Spencer,” she said, stomach twisting miserably. “I’m so sorry. You should have run when I told you to.” She sat next to him on the bed, her arm brushing against his shoulder. “Some genius you are, taking on a guy like Sommets.” Spencer was silent, upset or maybe angry with her. She wouldn’t blame him if he was. Glancing around, she spotted a pile of bloody wipes in his wastepaper basket. So, he had looked worse.

Damn. She hated owing people.

“Thank you for helping him,” she murmured, feeling Spencer start in surprise at the sound of her apologizing.

The woman smiled brightly, all annoyance disappearing. Emily had the instant impression of someone who couldn’t stay mad for long, no matter how much she tried. “It was no worry, honest. I couldn’t let sugar here wander around looking like he’d sprinted into a wall, could I?”

“Sommets is probably going to get expelled,” Emily said, turning back to Spencer. He looked up at her, eyes wary. “So, we won’t have to worry about a repeat incident. Those guys were still with him when I left. They seemed pretty pissed.”

“No repeat incident,” Spencer repeated slowly, and Emily knew he wasn’t referring to the fight. She looked away, flushing in embarrassment. What was it to him if she was buying drugs? Why did he care so much? No one ever had before. She’d probably regret this later, but she really did owe the kid something. “None. I promise.” Spencer grinned widely, flinching as the cut on his lip pulled. Relief and happiness plastered across his face. An open book.

She was seriously starting to doubt he’d grown up in Vegas, his poker face was _atrocious_.

The other woman stepped forward, expression slightly quizzical as their cryptic remarks evaded her. “Well, I don’t know about you guys, but all this excitement is making me hungry. Anyone else up for something to eat?”

Emily froze, unsure how to reply. Generally, she avoided socializing with the people in her dorm. After all, she’d made friends with Spencer and now he was trying to protect her from herself and getting hurt in the process. Any more ‘friends’ and she’d be smothered. Spencer however, for once, seemed to have no reservations. Apparently, the key to getting him to open up was to wipe a pint of his own blood off his face. Emily wished it had been that easy to get him to talk to her.

He leapt to his feet, bouncing slightly on his heels. “I’d honestly kill for a coffee, if we’re going out,” he exclaimed, turning painfully hopeful eyes onto her. They really needed to work on his caffeine intake. “Come on, Em, Penelope is really nice. And she’s a great cook, even with the limited options the dorm kitchens supply us with.”

Emily looked from his pleading expression to Penelope’s bright smile and gave in warily. “Alright, fine, but you gotta get out of those clothes first.”

Spencer looked startled, before glancing down at his blood splattered sweater. “Oh. Yeah. Whoops.”

Penelope stepped forward with a wicked grin. “Let’s find you something decent to wear.”

Emily had never known that sentence to sound so much like a threat before now.

 

* * *

 

“Every time! Every time I leave you with him, you get into a fight, Aaron!” Haley furiously stormed around her room shoving clothes into drawers. Aaron stood awkwardly by the door, unsure if he should step further into the room. Haley’s roommate, Beth, was sitting on her bed, eyes locked onto the page of her book, unmoving, trying very hard to seem invisible.

He wished it was that simple.

“Haley, it wasn’t like that this time,” he pleaded. “We didn’t have a choice, he was whaling on some kid. I can’t just walk away from that.”

That was a mistake. Haley turned on him. “No, you couldn’t, could you? You never can! You can’t ever walk away, Aaron, you and your goddamn hero complex! You never think about yourself, or me, or what happens to us if you get expelled!”

That wasn’t fair. He frowned, twisting his mouth uncomfortably. “I always think about you, Hale. I wouldn’t do anything to put our future at risk.”

Haley was shaking her head before he’d even finished. “No, when you’re with your friends you don’t think, Aaron. You just act. Especially when you’re around David. Fucking. Rossi.” She punctuated every last word with a shake of the pillow she was holding, before tossing it onto her bed and sitting heavily, avoiding his gaze. “I want you to leave. I need to think, and so do you.”

Panic began to bubble up in his stomach, and he reached out to her. “Haley, wait, we can talk…”

“No,” she interrupted harshly, still refusing to meet his eyes. “Not right now, Aaron, I need space. I need to think about our future. _My_ future.”

Aaron let his breath out in one expulsion, words dying on his lips. The right argument to make her see his point of view, to calm her down and bring her back to him was there, just waiting to be said. But it was out of his reach, impossible for him to think of while panic threatened to overwhelm him. So, he turned and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

Dave was standing up the hall, studying the wallpaper intently as though he hadn’t heard every word. He glanced at Aaron as he slunk sheepishly towards him, before returning to his observation of the wall. “David Fucking Rossi, huh?”

Aaron bit back a bitter laugh. “Have to wonder how she knows your middle name.”

Dave turned to face him and for a moment, the argument hung between them as they decided where to go next. “It’s actually Stephen. Want to get a drink?”

Aaron nodded, his relief almost painful. “God, yes.”

 

* * *

 

“Didn’t realize you were into football, JJ.” Derek was panting and dripping with sweat as he wandered up to her. JJ grinned at him, more at ease with the man now Penelope had thrown them together into a strange little group.

“Well, I figured I should get a feel for how aggressive you are on the field, before I kick your ass at soccer,” she replied.

He laughed, wiping his arm across his forehead. “Kick my ass? You’re on, blondie. I’ll wipe the pitch with you,” he said, punching her arm lightly as the whistle went off.

“Good luck!” she called after him, settling onto the stand and watching him jog away. Derek was certainly easy on the eyes. _Not my type though_ , JJ thought glumly. She’d seen him play a dancefloor just as easily as he played the field, and she had no intention of ruining this new friendship by becoming just another notch on his bedpost.

The week before Derek had dragged Penelope out onto the dancefloor at a nearby club, swinging her in widening circles and both laughing uproariously. He had been so open, so unconcerned with pretending around her; JJ had watched and wished she had someone to be that real with. Her whole life had been spent pretending. Pretending she was someone she wasn’t; pretending she was okay.

She was sick of it.

She glanced up just in time to see Derek dart past a taller player, effortlessly leading the ball down the field. She stood, yelling encouragement, anticipation of him scoring making it impossible to sit still. “Come on, Derek!”

She watched as he turned on a dime, paused… and stumbled as a fellow played slammed into him from behind. JJ groaned along with the crowd as Derek fell forward, ball slipping out his fingers and rolling away over the thick turf. Her groan turned into a gasp as he fell awkwardly, leg twisting out grotesquely under him, fancying she could hear the snap of bone from where she was sitting, as impossible as that was. She watched in horror as he hit the ground.

He didn’t get up.


	3. Lost Confidence

Derek absentmindedly doodled a picture of a dog on the side of his page, only half listening to Spencer rattling on about something painfully dull involving corporate regulations. He was so far behind on his coursework he couldn’t see how even Spencer could tutor him enough for a passing grade at this point. Not that he particularly cared… his sporting career was basically over anyway. What was the point? Shifting uncomfortably in the hard-backed library chair, he became aware of a vicious itch under the brace attached to his knee and lower leg. Shoving the pen between the metal and skin, he vigorously scratched at it, mouth pursed in concentration. _Oh, thank fuck,_ he thought as the itch eased. He wasn’t aware that he’d made some sort of relieved noise until he glanced up and found himself being stared at by two pairs of quizzical eyes and one set of darker, judgemental ones.

“Are… are you okay?” Spencer asked carefully, sitting up in his seat and glancing at Derek’s leg. Slumped next to him with the most ‘fuck off’ posture Derek had ever seen on a woman, Prentiss glowered with an open book laying forgotten on her lap. Feeling his face heat up in embarrassment, he tried to straighten and look as though he’d been paying attention, fumbling in his haste and dropping the pen with a painfully loud clatter as it hit his chair on its way to the floor.

“Damn, fuck,” he swore, trying to catch it and almost falling off the two seats he was propped across. _Fuck my knee, fuck this class, fuck this school,_ he thought furiously, refusing to look up and see the pity (or amusement in Prentiss’ case) on the faces around him. He still had his pride, after all.

A hand reached down and picked the pen up, handing it to him. The hand stayed on his for a moment, squeezed reassuringly, and he finally looked up. There wasn’t any pity on JJ’s face, just concern. “We can come back and do this later, if you need a break,” she said.

There was a snort from the other side of the table. “Oh sure. Because Spencer’s time is _so_ invaluable that he can spend all his time tutoring,” Prentiss said, closing the book with a snap.

JJ frowned at her. “That’s not fair, Spence isn’t just here for Derek. He’s helping me as well.” That wasn’t entirely true. JJ was always up to date with her work and meticulous about her study habits. He seriously doubted there was much she needed help with, and he had _no_ idea why Prentiss insisted upon sitting in on these sessions, but it wasn’t to do any studying that was for sure. He suspected it was because she didn’t trust him alone with her younger friend.

And that really fucking pissed him off.

“I don’t mind,” Spencer said softly, the confidence that he always showed when teaching or explaining a concept disappearing. “I can spare the time.” Derek went to say how much he appreciated the help, even if he felt he was too far behind to catch up, but Prentiss stood and dropped the book onto the table with a _crack_. Derek jumped, a spark of pain dancing up his leg.

“Of course you don’t mind, Spencer! You never mind! You keep putting yourself out there to help everyone who shows you even the slightest bit of kindness, and then they ignore you as soon as they have what they want!”

Spencer’s mouth hung open, stunned. She turned on Morgan next, who bristled at the way she towered over him. If his leg wasn’t screwed, she wouldn’t be able to intimidate him like this. He glared, hoping that showed in his expression, but she didn’t recoil, not one bit. Derek suspected that she didn’t know how to back down, like a feral cat who had to fight for every scrap of life.

She proved that now.

“You’re using him, Morgan! You’ll get what you want and then like every other asshole, you’ll piss off and pretend you don’t know him as soon as you’ve gotten it!” She stopped, biting savagely at her lip as though to stop herself from saying more. He could see the glint of blood beading where her teeth had cut the skin. There was a rush of furious heat in his stomach as he struggled to his feet, heart pounding with anger. Limbs shaking, knuckles white as they gripped his crutches roughly; he knew he was dangerously close to losing control. He almost welcomed the sharp stab of pain as he let his leg thump against the floor, the chair clattering backwards to thump against the wall.

How dare she? _How dare she?_ How could she imply that she was using Reid for his brains! Imply that he was like every other jerk in their dorm who played nice when assignments were due, but then teased the kid behind his back or broke into his room and messed with his things? How dare she imply that he was just another reason why Spencer was so careful about locking his door when he was alone in his room at night?

He wasn’t anything like them... was he?

All his furious retorts died. JJ stood properly now, reaching towards him with concern. He felt sick to see it. “Derek?”

Prentiss looked sheepish. Spencer was still impersonating a fish. Derek stared at him. Actually, properly stared at him. There was a bruise on his chin that Derek hadn’t even noticed, hadn’t asked about. Had he even asked him how he was?

And it clicked.

He was _exactly_ like those other guys. All this time he’d thought he was doing the kid a favour, being friendly to him, showing him attention and feeling good about himself when the kid responded. All this time he’d thought he was his _friend,_ and he didn’t even know the first damn thing about him. He’d never bothered to ask. Holy shit. Emily _Prentiss_ was a better friend to the kid than he was. Emily Prentiss, the borderline basket-case with the probable drug habit.

The weight of it was crushing.

He was flunking, he couldn’t play football anymore, and he couldn’t even manage not to be a dick to his friends. So they wouldn’t see the self-loathing on his face, he span on his one good leg and hobbled quickly towards the exit of the library, letting the door slam shut behind him.

He didn’t deserve the concern he knew they’d show if he stayed.

 

* * *

 

“Damn,” JJ said with a sigh as Morgan moved with surprising speed considering his injury. Before they’d had time to react, he was gone, leaving his bag and books on the desk. “I should go after him.” Spencer shifted uncomfortably, unsure of where he should look. He didn’t want to seem like he was pressuring JJ to go after Morgan by staring at her, but Emily was still and silent next to him and he knew looking at her would make it seem like he was blaming her. Was he blaming her?

People were turning out to be just as complicated as he’d expected they would be.

He knew it wasn’t really about Morgan, not really. Maybe he was terrible at talking to people but he could read their behaviour, and that explosion of Emily’s had been a long time coming. But he had a horrible feeling that Emily had picked the worst possible target to take her frustrations out on. Of their strange little group, including Penelope, Morgan and Emily were the most vulnerable. And he was including himself in his assumption of the vulnerability of their odd little group. He knew they didn’t see it in him; they just saw his stuttering ways and how he pulled back in social situations, but he knew he was strong in ways they weren’t.

He’d never felt the need to buy drugs to prove a point, for one thing.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” Emily stammered. “I don’t… I shouldn’t have said that to him. I didn’t mean it, not really.” Spencer finally glanced up at her. Her shoulders were hunched, making her hair hang forward into her face like a dark curtain. Hiding herself. It didn’t look right on her. That was his trick. He shoved his own hair out of his eyes, nails catching on his glasses, and looked to JJ for help. He didn’t _know_ how to help. He hated not knowing things.

“It’s ok, just… shit,” JJ said, quickly shoving books into hers and Morgan’s bag. “I’ll go talk to him. He’s just feeling crappy because of, well, you know. I’ll tell him you didn’t mean it, Em, it’ll be fine. He knows you don’t think that of him, Spence.” She slung both bags over her shoulder, shot them a distracted smile, and hurried out. The silence that settled on the table was heavy and awkward, broken only by the tense tapping of Spencer’s foot on the floor as he jiggled his leg in place. He swallowed. Coughed. Wiped his hand across his mouth self-consciously, lost for words. He didn’t look at her.

Emily picked up her bag, knocking her book into it with a shaking hand. “I can’t let JJ take this fall for me. I should go after him, apologize.” She pulled a wry face, looking past him instead of at him. “It’s about time I learned to apologize when I fuck up.” Spencer nodded, not entirely sure if he should go with her. He had several books he needed to look up for his thesis, but if he could help…

Who was he kidding, since when had he ever been of help to anyone?

Emily had seen his uncertainty. “You stay here. I don’t want him to think I’m just apologizing to make you happy, I want him to know I mean it. You don’t mind, do you?”

Shaking his head, he watched as she slowly made her way out, before slipping off to see if he could find the books he needed. _Morgan will be fine,_ he told himself. He was tough, and Emily could be stubborn when she wanted to be. They’d work it out.

He’d intended to head back to the dorms after a couple of hours if Emily didn’t show up, see if he could find Morgan and talk to him himself, without the women hovering around over-protectively. But as usual, as soon as he began following a trail of references, he lost himself in the books, his eyes flickering over page after page and devouring the contents hungrily. Which was why he didn’t hear the soft scuff of a shoe in the aisle behind him until a hand tapped his arm gently and he whirled in shock to find himself face to face with a stranger.

“Hi,” the woman said, smiling brightly at him. “I’m Taylor. I couldn’t help but notice, are you actually reading those books? You flip the pages so fast!”

Spencer closed the book in his hands and almost did his usual automatic smile and mumbled reply before excusing himself. Then, he stopped. A soft echo of spoken words hovered in his mind. _You keep putting yourself out there to help everyone who shows you even the slightest bit of kindness, and then they ignore you as soon as they have what they want!_ Maybe it was time he proved he could look after himself. If he could do that, everything else might fall into place.

A deep breath and a smile he hoped looked confident instead of pained. “I read. I mean, I’m Spencer reading, ah, I mean… Reid. Spencer Reid, it’s nice to meet you.” He coughed and contemplated bolting. He contemplated finding a new library. Maybe a new college. Why did he have to be so _awkward?_

She took the book from his hands and examined it curiously, unpainted nails flicking through the pages, before looking back to him. Her expression as she surveyed him was unfamiliar as she pushed a lock of brown hair out of her face. She was dressed casually, he noted, just a sweater and jeans, a book bag on one arm. Laptop over her shoulder. Student then, probably third year. Early twenties. He filed this away quickly in the back of his mind. A strand of hair caught on her lip for a moment and she brushed at it irritably. He suspected his eyes had lingered on her lips for a little longer than was socially acceptable and dropped his gaze awkwardly.

_Damn,_ he thought wildly, as he felt his cheeks begin to burn. _Damn damn damn._ There were books at his back and only one exit from this aisle. The exit she was blocking.

“Well, Spencer ‘reading’,” she teased, tilting her head and watching him with that unfathomable expression. “How about we take a break together? Grab a coffee? You’ve been here for hours, you must be hungry.”

Tempting. Sorely tempting. Part of his mind seized up, going blank, leaving him stupid and speechless. The other part raced, noting his pulse, his heartbeat, the dryness of his mouth, the whipcord jolt of heat in his belly. Damn. _Get it together. Say no. Say no thank you, smile, leave. This is wrong, wrong wrong wrong, and dangerous._ He was only sixteen. What could he possibly present to her that would interest her? He couldn’t even legally drive yet.

“Oh… thank you,” he stammered, brain finally catching up. “But I… I really have to get this report done. Another time, perhaps?”

_Another time? What the hell, Spencer? No!_

She laughed and his heart jumped. “It’s a date,” she said with a wink, handing him back the book. “I’ll see you around, Spencer Reading.”

He watched her leave, gripping the book with palms that were suddenly sweaty. Something brushed against his finger, and he glanced down, curious. A loose slip of paper tucked between the cover and title page. A phone number.

He memorised it at the first glance, but he kept it anyway.

 

* * *

 

She felt like an outsider. She didn’t belong here, especially after her earlier blow up at Morgan. They should hate her, be furious for hurting him like that. Not invite her to a movie night and look genuinely happy when she showed up, tagging reluctantly after Spencer. And when had _that_ happened? When had she become the one who followed Spencer, instead of the other way around?

She wasn’t sure if she was proud or horrified.

Penelope and JJ had pushed their beds together for the night, throw pillows and fluffy rugs spread liberally around the room. Emily had claimed one of the several poufy bean-bags that lay invitingly on the floor, unwilling to push her luck by sitting on the expanded bed with the others. Spencer had reached for a bean-bag, only to be seized by Penelope and dragged into the pile of linen on the bed. From her view on the floor, Emily had an odd view of JJ wrapped up tightly in a spotted blanket and the barest sliver of Spencer’s tousled brown hair poking out from under the pillows Penelope was pinning him down with.

Penelope kept checking her cell with an expression that could only be described as thunderous as Emily awkwardly reached over to grab some of the popcorn that JJ had her arms wrapped around. JJ seemed happy enough to share, but there was no way Emily was going anywhere near the bowl of chocolate after one look at the possessive expression on Spencer’s face. Fighting a sixteen-year-old genius for candy was absolutely not the way she’d chosen to die. She wondered if she should warn the other two, or if she should let them find out about their youngest friend’s dark side on their own. Honestly, if they were going to supply him with candy, they deserved it.

She’d just taken a mouthful of the popcorn, watching JJ and Spencer argue over, of all things, Finnish poetry (really? What the hell?), when the door opened and the last person Emily had hoped to see that day slunk in. She inhaled with shock, a kernel sticking painfully in her throat. Spencer loudly helped in his own special way; instructing everyone in the proper way to administer the Heimlich as well as cheerfully adding in statistics on the likelihood of her dying from asphyxiation brought on by improper popcorn consumption.

She wondered if it would give the wrong impression if she brought him a ball gag.

By the time she was breathing easily again and Spencer had moved on to chattering happily about deaths caused by other food items, Morgan had been seated on the bed next to Spencer by Penelope, his leg propped up by a pillow shaped like a green duck with a Mohawk. JJ curled up next to him, not shy about leaning her weight on his side. JJ was rarely shy about showing affection to the people she cared about. Emily wondered what it would be like to be on the receiving end of that affection. She doubted she ever would be.

Morgan’s eyes met hers and he smiled slightly, nodding at her. She got the message. Apology accepted. She smiled back. No hard feelings. If only everything could be so easy.

 

* * *

 

Aaron was glum. He and Haley had been on the rocks for weeks now, bickering about the most stupid things. Honestly, the hell did it even matter if he kept milk in the fridge door or not? Did it really deserve a three-hour argument?

Which was why when Dave had walked in and told him to get his shit together they were going out, he had followed with only a token protest. The night had turned out to be a bust, and he could feel a headache building as he watched Dave attempting to charm his way through the bar staff. Eventually he stood, announcing that he was leaving. Fuck this. Fuck it all. Maybe he’d just go to bed. What was the point…

Dave caught up with him before he’d gotten down the street, breath beery and grin jovial. “Awh, come on Aaron, it wasn’t that bad!”

Aaron shook his head, “I just want to go home, Dave. Can’t we just stay in for once and watch movies or something? Why do we always have to go out and watch you try to pick up?”

Dave was silent. The grin vanished. “Haley still… Haley?”

Aaron flinched. His mood had nothing to do with his relationship troubles— _it didn’t_ —he was just sick of watching Dave flirt and have fun while he sat on the sidelines and obsessed over their latest fight. “Not really. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong, I don’t know what she wants from me.” He hated that he could hear a slight whine in his voice. Okay, maybe it was a _little_ bit about his relationship.

They’d entered the dorm and he’d lowered his voice. It would just be the icing on the cake if she heard him talking about her to Dave. He’d never hear the end of it. Which was why they heard very clearly over their soft conversation, the sound of people laughing in one of the rooms they passed on the third floor. Judging by the sounds of startled shrieking, someone was being tickled, or possibly gently murdered. Around here, either was just as likely.

“At least someone is having fun tonight,” Aaron remarked miserably. Dave looked around, his face lighting up and his smile becoming positively devious. Aaron had seen that expression previously, and it had absolutely never boded well. Before he could try to be the voice of reason, Dave was gone. He had no choice but to follow his mental friend as he rapped sharply on one of the doors, letting himself in without even waiting for a reply.

Aaron stuck his head around the doorframe, almost groaning in horror as Dave loudly introduced them both to a room filled with _far_ more people than expected. His eyes flickered over the faces scattered within, noting Derek Morgan spread-eagled carelessly over the pushed together twin beds, the dark-haired girl they’d saved from Sommets seated on a violently orange beanbag, and the dorm’s resident hacker, Penelope Garcia, sprawled on her tummy on the beds. A blonde girl that Aaron was unfamiliar with was tucked up against Morgan’s side, shovelling popcorn into her mouth with a ferocity that was slightly alarming.

He hadn’t even heard what Dave had been saying, but suddenly Penelope was sitting up and inviting them to watch movies, the blonde girl—JJ—was offering them popcorn, and Aaron found himself being pushed onto a bean-bag, watching blue zombies stumble around a mall. His elbow brushed the dark-haired girl’s (Emily, they called her Emily) elbow as he sat.

Dave, with the casual confidence of someone who was used to being accepted into every social situation they thrust themselves into, had wriggled his way onto the bed next to Penelope and promptly sat on the kid genius who’d tunnelled his way, mole-like, under a pile of throw pillows. In Dave’s defence, he managed admirably not to tumble backward off the bed in shock as what appeared to be a pile of pillows squawked indignantly and thrashed under him before revealing itself to be a cranky sixteen-year-old with hair that had bypassed messy and gone straight on to explosively chaotic. Aaron snorted with laughter as Dave wisely decided to move back to the edge of the bed to avoid sitting on anyone else who might be hiding under the bed-covers.

Which was how Aaron Hotchner came to have the best night he’d had in months; watching awful horror movies in a room of people he barely knew but liked anyway, laughing as Dave and Spencer fought bitterly over control of the chocolate bowl. Derek complained about the characters, the plot and everything else about the movies he could think of, until JJ shut him up by shoving popcorn in his mouth. Emily had been standoffish at first but, by the third movie the two of them were grinning and joining in on the popcorn fight that Derek had started in protest at being force-fed.

He realized later that night when he finally made it back to his room that he hadn’t even thought about Haley once.


	4. Ulterior Motives

The breakfasts were Penelope’s idea at first, a sort of ‘roommate bonding’ for the two of them. JJ had gone along with it happily, mostly for the guarantee for more delicious cooking. It only took three of these daily breakfast meetups in their room before Derek sniffed them out and claimed a place. After that, it didn’t really feel so much like ‘roommate bonding’ as it was ‘dorm mate bonding’ and it only seemed natural that Spencer and, by association, Emily, were both invited. It turned out that Emily was about as much of a morning person as JJ had expected her to be, and her appearances were sporadic at best. At least, they were before Derek seemed to take it upon himself to personally drag the reclusive woman out of bed every morning and personally accompany her to Pen and JJ’s room.

JJ saw the way Spencer (who hadn’t missed a morning since they’d first invited him) lit up when he saw Emily slink crankily into the room, and figured perhaps Derek was doing it more for the kid’s sake than Emily’s. She also guessed that Emily was going along with it for much the same reason; to keep the tenuous peace between the two.

When David Rossi, who seemed to have unofficially declared himself part of their group, showed up one week with a container of pastries in his arms and Aaron Hotchner by his side as always, no one even blinked an eye. Aaron didn’t always show up but, when he did, he was always charming, always slightly guarded. JJ made a point to always smile brightly when she saw him, and slowly he relaxed.

It was a month into the breakfast routine, after they’d been forced to move it to the common room due to concerns about their room’s capacity, when she found herself standing to the side and observing the strange group of people before her. Pen, who had never doubted for a moment that they’d become friends. Derek, who was slowly recovering from not only the physical damage his knee had caused but the emotional fallout as well. Emily. She still kept herself withdrawn from the group, never trusting them to help her with her troubles. JJ could see a friend there, knew that they could be close if Emily would just trust them a little more. She suspected Spencer was probably going play a key role in that. David and Aaron, who had just shown up and fit right in as though there was a space in the group ready and waiting for them. Their meetings were a little louder and a lot sillier since Rossi had decided to start arriving. He was the life of the party, but everything he did he did while carefully observing his friend. Aaron Hotchner, with the shy smile and the tired eyes, always dressed prudently and impeccably. Would Rossi have ever walked into their room that night if he hadn’t been trying to cheer up his friend?

And Spencer. JJ looked at him, and her heart ached. Smart as a whip, but she could practically feel the loneliness radiating off of him. He was the first to offer help with coursework, the first to leap up and suggest himself whenever any of them needed a favour. Trying to make himself integral to them, so they wouldn’t get bored of him and move on. She knew how that felt.

She looked at them, at their assembly of oddities, and thought that she couldn’t have been more wrong. Instead of not making any friends at all, she’d made six.

 

* * *

 

There was a bleakness to Derek Morgan that hadn’t been there before. Spencer tried to be subtle about it as he observed the older student. He still joked with them, paying out the way Aaron dressed and the amount of sugar Spencer felt the need to have in his coffee. But the jokes came a little slower, a little thinner. He’d toned down on the flirting with Pen, something they’d all noticed. Spencer was sure the others had also noticed how much less their friend smiled now, even as the brace gave way to a pair of crutches. Pen had happily stolen the plain crutches on the first day Derek had hobbled into breakfast with them, adorning them with cheerful scribbles and charms that jingled slightly as he moved. It meant they always had prior warning of Derek’s approach, but he didn’t seem to overly mind.

Spencer knew his friends would have seen this, seen the slight withdrawal of their usually exuberant companion, but he wondered if any of them knew how much Morgan was pulling back from his schoolwork. _Not his schoolwork,_ Spencer corrected himself. It wasn’t essays and assignments Derek was running from; it was from a manifestation of his future that he wasn’t ready to face yet. Derek wasn’t entirely sure that he still had a future… or at least one that didn’t have him trapped in an office.

The friend in question was doing an admirable job of attempting to look focused as he flipped through the readings he’d had shoved at him, but Spencer could tell that he wasn’t taking in any of the words his eyes skimmed over. He could see all this, see the struggle the other student was going through, but he didn’t know how to reach out to him, how to fix it. That wasn’t where he excelled. That was more Pen’s area, or JJ’s. Especially JJ’s. All he could do was continue to meet Derek at the library every week and continue to try and tutor him through this rough patch.

“This isn’t working,” Derek said finally, closing the book with a snap. “I can’t focus. We’re just wasting your time.” Spencer could hear the unspoken ‘ _I’m wasting your time, just like Emily said I would’_. Words could cut deep, even when they were spoken in haste. Especially when spoken in haste.

“It’s alright, you’re doing better.”

He was trying to be reassuring, but Derek picked up his crutches and shook his head, cutting him off: “It’s fine. We’ll try again next week.” Then he was gone, head bowed as his crutches tinkled merrily with his movements, a stark contrast to the dark mood that had settled around him like a storm.

Spencer hissed out his breath between clenched teeth, feeling useless. It was time to call upon higher forces.

**To: P. Garcia:** **It didn’t go well. SR.**

**P. Garcia:** **Wt hppnd? Do I need 2 cme dwn thr? : /**

**To: P. Garcia:** **He’s given up. Why do you feel the need to torture me by texting like that? SR.** **Garcia:** **Wl tlk 2 him :P Suck it up prncss. Luv u <3**

Dropping his old cell onto the table with almost reckless irritation, Spencer slumped next to it and pressed the back of his knuckles hard enough into his closed eyes that red lights danced in his vision. He slept badly as it was; slept worse when he was worried about his friends. He decided to take pleasure from the fact that he had friends to lose sleep over, rather than feeling irritated about his exhaustion. His phone buzzed again and he tried to tilt the screen to face him without lifting his head from the table.

**number unknown:** **You look tired ;)**

He frowned at the message, glancing around the library nervously. No one appeared to have been watching him, and almost every student had some sort of phone sitting near them. Not helpful.

**To number unknown:** **Who is this? How did you get my number? SR.**

**number unknown:** **You sign your texts? How… appropriate for you.**

Spencer stared at it, fingers tapping anxiously at the keys. What was he supposed to say to _that_?

**To: P. Garcia:** **Are you by a computer? You can trace phones, right? SR.**

He sent the message and swivelled in his chair, trying to see if someone was watching him through the rows of books.

A bag dropped into the chair next to him and he almost dropped his phone in a panic as he spun around to face it. The girl from the previous month, Taylor, smiled brightly at him as she slid into Derek’s vacant chair, taking in his startled expression and nervous grip on his Nokia. “I hope I didn’t scare you too much, I just wanted to tease you a little,” she told him, face shifting to concern. “I’m sorry.”

Spencer laughed weakly, the noise sounded stupid even to his ears. “It’s fine. Fine. That was you? Texting?” He held his cell up as though to illustrate the word ‘texting.’

She raised an eyebrow at his awkwardness. “I hope you don’t mind. I got your number from my friend. You helped her with homework once. You never texted me, I had to take the initiative.”

His phone hummed slightly in his hand, the second time that minute, and he glanced quickly down at the screen.

**P. Garcia:** **Of crse hndsme. Y?**

**P. Garcia:** **Spencer? Why????? R U OK? Where r u??**

**missed call P. Garcia**

**missed call P. Garcia**

“Sorry,” he told Taylor, noting her eyes tracking his screen. “I just have to message a friend, I don’t mean to be rude.” His mouth felt uncomfortably dry as she smiled and shrugged.

**To: P. Garcia:** **I’m fine. Don’t panic, I’ll tell you later. SR.**

He slipped the cell onto the table and sat upright, turning his attention to his companion. “I meant to text you, I just… time got away from me.”

Taylor narrowed her eyes at him. “You mean you didn’t text me because you weren’t sure I meant it when I said next time?” He didn’t answer her, because that was exactly what he meant. She leaned closer and he could see her pulse fluttering under the skin of her neck. Swallowing nervously, he was pretty sure the way his heart jack-rabbited in his chest was audible. “Well, Spencer reading, it’s next time.” Close enough now that he could see himself reflected in her eyes. “How about that coffee?”

His cell buzzed slightly on the table next to them, and he tore his eyes away from her to look down at it, feeling vaguely out of his depth. Okay, a little more than vaguely. A _lot_ more than vaguely.

**P. Garcia:** **Err. Too late. Don’t be mad.**

**E. Prentiss:** **Who is that??**

Taylor slid her hand over his cell and pushed it away from him, before dropping it to his thigh. He could feel the heat from her palm burning through his slacks. “Come on, Spencer. Don’t you trust me?”

 

* * *

 

**Garcia: Somethings up with Spencer, hes in the library. Check on him please Em?**

**To: Garcia:** **What’s he done now? OMW.**

**Garcia:** **I don’t know. He txted me asking if I could trace a phone?? He’s such a unbeliever, of course I can trace a phone. PAH 3: <**

Emily snorted, imagining Garcia’s disappointed expression at the idea of Spencer doubting her. She was near the library anyway. Might as well check in on the kid. Why on earth would Spencer be asking Garcia to trace a phone, of all things? For one, it was so goddamn illegal for Garcia to be doing that anyway that Emily was surprised Spencer hadn’t called the police on himself for suggesting it.

She sidled into the library, glancing about warily for the younger student. She couldn’t see him anywhere, but he could be cornered behind one of the stacks or in one of the side rooms…

Pushing down her trepidation, she moved forward, carefully angling herself through the tables between quietly chatting students. She found him at the table he usually favoured when studying with Morgan, but it wasn’t Morgan with him. Emily stared in shock at the woman leaning into Spencer’s space, one hand trailing provocatively along the kid’s knee.

What the fuck. What the _fuck_?

She wanted to walk over there and slap the woman making Spencer make that stupid deer-in-the-headlights face. She wanted to shove the woman onto her ass and ask her what the fuck she was playing at, flirting with a minor?

_He’s sixteen,_ she thought furiously. _Who flirts with a sixteen year old?_

She pushed down her violent thoughts—anger issues? What anger issues? —and tapped out a message on her phone. It would probably be a good idea to at least give the kid _some_ kind of heads up before she went in there like a bull in a china shop. Maybe there was a good reason that Creepy McCreepster was getting all up in the kid’s shit.

**To: Einstein** : **Who is that???**

Spencer glanced at his cell on the table, his hand twitching as though to reach towards it, but the woman slid her hand out and pushed it away from him. His eyes widened. His skin visibly paled.

That was fear. That was the kind of face you made when you were cornered.

Emily dropped all pretence of being nice. No one, _no one_ , got away with causing that face in front of her. “Who the fuck are you?” she spat, not bothering to keep her voice down. Spencer jumped so hard at her sudden approach that the back legs of the chair tilted alarmingly backwards, threatening to dump him into the wall. She moved closer, grabbed the back of the chair with one hand, and continued glowering at the startled woman in front of them.

“Em!” Spencer yelped, voice shrill. Guilty as shit. _Shut up, Spencer,_ she thought savagely. _Don’t make this worse._ “Hi! Em, hello! This is Taylor… Taylor, err…”

The woman stood and narrowed her eyes at Emily. Emily immediately straightened, sensing the dislike behind that stare. This Taylor absolutely did not like her. Which—although appropriate because Emily didn’t like her either—was strange since she was pretty sure she’d never met this girl before in her life.

“Just Taylor,” the other woman said softly, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear with a careful flick of her hand. Emily hated people who fussed with their hair like that, trying to get a guy to focus on the skin revealed under the hair. She glanced at Spencer, noting the way his eyes hungrily followed her neckline, and kicked the chair violently. The chair toppled, spilling him out of it with a startled yelp.

“Oh shit,” Emily said with overloud concern, moving to block the other woman as she tried help him up. “My bad, sorry, Spence. Oh man, did you hit your head? We should get you to the nurse’s station, get you checked.” He didn’t fight her as she tugged him up by the shoulder of his baggy sweater, just looked confused. Some genius, _Christ._

Slinging his bag over her shoulder, she scooped his cell into her pocket and tugged him towards the door. “Nice to meet you, Taylor,” she called back over her shoulder. “Hope we meet again soon!” She was pretty sure if she made one more dramatic exit from the library with all eyes following her, they were going to ban her from the premises. She was also pretty sure that she and Spencer were going to have words when they got outside, and if she ever saw that cow near him again, she’d scalp the both of them. If anyone knew what a woman looked like when she had an ulterior motive, it was Emily Prentiss. And that look on Taylor’s face?

That was one that Emily herself had worn all too often.


	5. Unforeseen Visitors

The last person Penelope had ever expected to be sitting in her dorm room was well… sitting in her dorm room. “I understand that education was never your highest priority, but they did teach you that breaking and entering is a felony, right?” she asked him, hiding her shaking hands in the pockets of her brightly coloured cardigan.

Shane Wyeth spun in her desk chair and smiled falsely. “Your door was open. Technically all I did was enter. No breaking involved, sweetheart.”

Penelope hesitated. They hadn’t parted on the greatest of terms (or on any terms, really), but there was no reason she should be this nervous about confronting her ex. Oh yeah. Except for the fact that he had apparently broken into her goddamn room, her one sanctuary. Also, the fact that he’d found her at all. But then again, back when they’d worked together, it’s not like there was anything that could be hidden from them.

“If you’re thinking of calling out to one of your friends, I’d remind you that your preppy roommate is at soccer practise, that thick-headed action figure up the hall is in remedial classes, and you really don’t want to call wee ickle Spency in here, do you?”

Penelope swallowed, stepped into her room and pushed the door shut behind her, clicking the lock on. She hated when Shane was right. Hated it with a passion, but there was no way in hell she was chancing having Spencer in the same room as Shane Wyeth. _Especially_ not if the kid thought he had to protect her. Nope.

“What do you want, Shane?” she asked, keeping her voice cold. His fingers tapped restlessly on his knees as he looked her up and down, lip curling in disgust at her new style. “Are you using again?”

“Penny, Penny, Penny,” he sighed, putting his hands on the back of his head and rolling his eyes. “I never stopped. Your new look is… ridiculous. We used to pay out girls like you.”

“You used to. I’m who I always wanted to be.”

He stood up, his demeanour switching straight from cat-like relaxation to a furious anger that left her trembling. “You? You left me! I woke up and you were gone, baby! I loved you!”

She took a step back. She’d never been afraid of Shane before, but if he was tweaking and angry… her fingers danced over the phone in her pocket, pressed down on speed dial one. “I didn’t just leave you, Shane, I left that life. I needed something else, something more! I needed to find myself!”

He was already moving towards her, shaking his head violently as he approached. Even nervous as she was, she couldn’t help but appreciate his looks still. “No, no, no, love. This isn’t you. This? This… carbon cut brainless bimbo routine? This isn’t the woman I know. The Penny I know wouldn’t waste her time with bitches like your roommate, or like those two queers you have breakfast with.”

Her gut churned with anger. How dare he? How _dare_ he? Just walk in here and talk about her friends like that! “Have you been stalking me?” she said, crowding into his space. Startled, he fell back, putting his hand onto her shoulder to hold her. She shook it off, frantic. “Stalking my friends? Who gave you the right!? JJ is the kindest, most generous woman I have ever known, and I’ll have you know that Derek Morgan is my best friend and you are nothing, _nothing,_ compared to him!”

Mistake. Shane had always been the jealous type. She should have known that mentioning Derek would set him off. “I’m nothing compared to him, huh? Are you fucking him? Is that it, Penelope?” His hand was back on her shoulder, gripping hard. She could feel his nails, always slightly too long and bitten into raggedy unevenness, digging through her cardigan. “Did you leave me so you could come here and fuck him? What has he got that I haven’t?”

“Manners, for one,” she said, trying her best to retain her frosty demeanour. She’d pressed call on her phone at least three minutes ago. What if Derek hadn’t answered? Or if she’d pressed the wrong button?

“Wondering where your little fuck buddy is?” Shane asked her, voice dropping low. He dug around in his pocket for a second, before pulling out a device that she recognised immediately with a hitch in her breath. “It’s amazing what you can buy these days, isn’t it? Cell-phone jammers are a dime a dozen. Short range of course, but that’s all you need. I didn’t want anyone interrupting our talk.”

Her heart sunk. “What do you want?” she repeated, sick of the verbal sparring.

His dark eyes met hers, and she remembered what it was like when she first fell in love with their intensity. She wouldn’t ever make that mistake again. “You, Pen. It’s always been you. I want you to come home.”

 

* * *

 

“I just thought I’d drop by to make sure you’re still doing okay with your workload,” Professor Blake said, awkwardly juggling books in her arms as she searched for the ones she wanted. “And I thought I’d drop off the readings you requested at the same time. I know they’re in here somewhere…”

Spencer quickly jumped up to help her, socked feet padding softly on the carpeted floor of his room. “Thank you, Professor. I would have come to your office to collect them if I’d known they’d arrived.”

Blake laughed, passing him the book with papers tucked neatly inside. “It’s no worry, Spencer. I was in the area.” Somehow Spencer doubted she was just ‘in the area’ of the dorms. She probably wanted to check on him. Quite a few of the professors had been adamantly against the idea of him living in the dorms with the older students when he’d first been admitted, but she had been one of the few to ask him how he felt about it. When he stated his wish to be treated like any other student, including living in the dorm, she’d backed him. He respected her greatly for that and considered her one of the few faculty members he trusted implicitly.

Which was why when she asked if he had anything he was concerned about, he hesitated a moment. Did he trust her enough to ask her advice? He’d never really needed personal advice before, preferring to work it out on his own. His mom, people picking on him, he’d always handled it alone. But when it came to his friends… the stakes were too high to risk messing up.

“Spencer?” Blake asked, studying him over her thin frames. “What’s wrong?”

“I have a friend, he’s… struggling with things,” Spencer said, carefully. “He doesn’t want to talk to anyone though. He’s worried about how it will look on his record in the future.”

Blake leaned against the doorframe. “Ah. And you don’t know how to help him?” Spencer shook his head. “Well, what do you think? What have you observed?”

Spencer frowned. This felt like a betrayal, so he cut it down to science. Ignoring the friend behind the symptoms. There was no betrayal in noting symptoms, was there? “Visible signs of anhedonia. There’s a notable withdrawal from formerly enjoyed activities and social situations, showing a lack of mood reactivity despite experiencing excessive guilt.”

Blake adjusted her glasses, pushing them up her nose. He could see her examining him. Studying him right back, just in case Spencer was trying to ‘mislead’ her by stating the questions were aimed at a friend. “You know what symptoms like that point towards. And the statistics.”

“Nine percent of the American population suffer from depression, but that number jumps to eleven percent for people aged between eighteen and twenty-four. Risk factors include someone suffering a major life event, minorities, those who are estranged from close family units, those living away from home…” He trailed off. “Knowing this doesn’t make helping him easier.”

Blake shifted and dug about in her pocket while propping the books against the wall with her hip. “Here. The campus has mental health facilities. I can get you a number to give him. It’s anonymous, Spencer. It won’t be connected to his records.” She pulled out her phone and tapped at it one handed. “Strange. Middle of campus and there’s no signal.”

Spencer pulled his own cell out his pocket to check. _No signal, emergency calls only,_ flickered across the spotless screen. He wiped it on his shirt anyway, just in case that would help.

“I can email you that number when I get back to my office after lunch,” she offered, checking her watch with an impatient shake of her wrist.

He had an idea. “My friend has a laptop. I can grab it from her room and look the number up on there?” Penelope would be back from class by now; they usually spent Wednesday afternoons studying together if they were free. Blake nodded assent and stepped aside as he ducked past her, padding up the hall to Penelope’s closed door. Which was odd, because she never closed her door. He tapped out a shave and a haircut pattern on the wood, wondering if she’d been caught up.

The door opened and a stranger stuck his head out, scowling. “What the fuck do you want?” he snapped, stepping forward into Spencer’s space. Spencer tried to take a step back, almost stumbling over his own feet as the guy crowded into him, automatically glancing sideways to where Blake was looking alarmed.

The stranger’s gaze followed his and he straightened immediately upon seeing the professor standing to the side. “Is there a problem here?” she asked him, walking up and putting herself between the startled Spencer and the edgy guy. Spencer peered around her, noting the jittery tap of fingers against the man’s jeans and the creases on his long sleeves from being rolled along his arm. Why was there a drug user in Penelope’s and JJ’s room?

“No problem, Prof,” the man said, smiling coldly. “Just having a chat with my girlfriend. I’m leaving now anyway.” He turned and pushed the door open, revealing a mortified Penelope with her hands over her open mouth. “We’ll talk later, Penny. Think about it.” There was an awkward silence as he strode away down the hall as Penelope seemed to be trying to sink into the floor to cover her embarrassment.

“Err… I was wondering if I could borrow your laptop?” Spencer asked nervously, to break the heavy silence. “Our phones aren’t working…”

“Oh,” Penelope said, voice breathy. “Oh, they should be working now. Just a glitch in the system. Nothing to worry about, my sweets. Nothing here to worry about. Hello Professor Blake! Lovely here we’re having day, I mean, day, here, having….”

Blake stared at the flustered woman. “Right. Yes. Hello, Gomez. Well, that number, Spencer. I’ll just pull it up.” Spence nodded and tried to look anywhere but at his beet-red friend. He didn’t really know what they’d interrupted, but by the look on Blake’s face, she wasn’t happy about any of it. Blake tapped his arm and handed him a slip of card with a number scrawled on it that he quickly pocketed, almost guiltily. “Remember, just drop in if you need anything, or just to talk.” She hesitated, glancing from him to Penelope. “I mean that. Anything, both of you. I’m always available to help.”

Spencer waited until she had disappeared around the corner of the dorms, the sound of the stairwell door echoing hollowly behind her, before turning. “So, _Penny_ , anything you want to talk about?”

Penelope looked pained. “Oh boy.”

 

* * *

 

This date had been a _long_ time coming and Aaron was determined to make it perfect. He’d booked the restaurant ahead of time, informed Dave that under no circumstances was he to come within five hundred metres of the premises, and turned up armed with a bouquet of flowers that oozed with vibes of _‘I’m totally serious about our future together’._ He’d been charming and funny and Haley had been smitten and it was just like when they’d first gotten together all over again. Aaron could finally relax and enjoy the most romantic time they’d had together in months. Almost the _only_ time together they’d had in months.

Well, they’d had time together. Quick, hurried time between classes… usually rushed by the fear of one of their roommates returning, or worry of being late to an appointment. Hardly the stuff they wrote romance novels about. Or wedding vows. Did he want to marry Haley? He did once. After tonight, he could see it again. That was, until Dave showed up.

David. Fucking. Rossi.

Aaron had almost choked on his champagne when he saw the nervous looking face hovering a few tables behind Haley, trying to be surreptitious in his signalling. Trying. Failing. Aaron stared at him and hoped his mouth hadn’t fallen open. A few patrons were glancing nervously at the wildly gesturing student, and two waiters headed in that direction.

“Aaron,” Haley asked, frowning in concern a, before turning her head to see what he was looking at. “Oh my god. Is that… _Aaron.”_

That last word was a threat if he’d ever heard one. “Haley, I don’t know what’s going on, I’ll just go…”

She gave him a look that was part resigned and part pained amusement. He didn’t think it boded well that she looked on the edge of hysterical laughter. “Is he fucking serious?”

Dave, obviously realizing he was spotted, was evading the waiters to stand next to their table. “Hello, Haley, lovely place. Aaron, check your cell much?”

“It’s off, Dave,” Aaron hissed. “I’m on a date, what do you want?” Haley tapped the table, biting her lip and clearly deciding against saying anything.

“My auntie’s cat,” Dave announced. Haley stopped her tapping and stared up at him, one eyebrow raised. “My auntie’s cat is… sick. Very sick. And she needs me to go get it and take it to the vet. Now. Right now.”

Aaron blinked stupidly, haunted by the distinct impression that there was a whole other layer to this conversation that he was missing. “Yes?” What else could he possibly say to that? Had Dave fucking lost it?

“You know, Aaron, my Auntie Spencer’s cat, Emily,” Dave carefully said, eyes taking on a sort of pleading woefulness. Aaron felt a distinct sinking in his gut that he was pretty sure had nothing to do with his roast lamb, and everything to do with his night being fucked from this point onward. What had Emily done _now_?

“Your auntie is called Spencer?” Haley asked Dave incredulously.

“Well, yes. We Italians are known for shucking gender stereotypes,” Dave assured her.

Haley looked even more confused. “Are they? Really? Why can’t you take the cat to the vet?”

Dave blinked, thrown. His mouth hung open for a moment, before snapping closed and twisting into a forced smile “Oh. I can’t. I’m drunk. Really drunk, absolutely plastered. Aaron, Emily-the-cat probably needs help right about _now_.”

Haley sighed, and pushed her plate away. “Come on, Aaron. We can’t really let Auntie… Spencer’s… cat die.” That clever bastard. He knew Haley wouldn’t be able to hold it against him to go help an animal. Dave was being _helpful_ , or at least his version of helpful.

He was going to fucking kill him.

Dave dropped money on the table and waved his hand at her. “Oh no, you stay here, Haley. Finish your dinner, my treat. You’d hate it at my auntie’s house. Very smelly, lots of dust. Let’s go, Aaron.”

“I’m sorry,” Aaron apologised frantically as Dave dragged him out his seat by his elbow. “I’ll make it up to you.” Haley waved him off, still looking torn between confusion and amusement at the whole thing, and then he was being hauled out of the restaurant into the cold night. “Dave, what the fuck are you playing at?” he snapped, pulling his arm out of his friend’s grip. “You know how important tonight was!”

Dave pulled a face. “I know, I know. But I need your help.” He pointed, and Aaron turned to view a crumpled, filthy form against the wall. A crumpled, filthy form, who was currently retching onto the cement. Dave swore, jogged over to it, and pulled her dark hair back out of vomit-range. “I didn’t do it,” he said defensively, sensing Aaron’s outraged glare aimed at his back. “I found her like this.”

_Jesus fuck, Emily_ , Aaron sighed inwardly. _What have you gotten into now?_

 

* * *

 

He’d had a few drinks, that was true. But he was not drunk. Not even a little. So, he was pretty sure he wasn’t hallucinating the odd sight in front of him. Was that David Rossi helping carry… _Emily?_

Derek hurried to catch up with the awkwardly shuffling trio, cursing the clumsiness of the cane he was leaning heavily on. “Yo, Aaron. What’s up with Emily?” On a second thought, one look at Aaron’s dark expression and Derek thought that maybe he should have asked Dave. The tension between the two was palpable.

“Too much to drink,” Aaron said shortly. “We’re taking her back to the dorm. Penelope or JJ can look after her.” Too much to drink was an understatement. The chick was almost catatonic.

_My ass she had too much to drink,_ Derek thought, eyeing her carefully. And she was worried about _him_ being a bad influence on Spencer. “She need medical care?” he asked, cautious. He didn’t want to piss them off by implying they weren’t looking after her, but growing up in Chicago had given him a firm view of how to deal with catatonically wasted chicks. Don’t let them choke on their own vomit. Don’t leave them with guys you don’t know. Don’t leave them until they’re conscious or they have family with them.

Don’t ever, _ever_ leave them with guys you don’t know. Ma had drummed that one into him.

“I think she just needs to sleep it off,” Dave said. There was no trace of his usual jovial manner; he was dancing around something. “If it’s just alcohol, anyway.” So, Derek wasn’t the only one who thought she was on something harder. He should have been surprised, but he wasn’t really. She was a girl desperately in search of something. Maybe that something was in a pill. She wasn’t OD’ing, just really wasted. For a moment, Derek entertained the thought of leaving them to it and letting them cart her home to Penelope and JJ. That was the easiest option. But if he let them do that, Spencer would find out. He could just imagine the kid’s face if he saw his friend in this state.

Goddamnit. Emily damn well owed him for this.

“Nah,” he said, walking forward shaking his head. “Don’t take her to Pen. She’s not going to want them to see her like this.”

“What do you want us to do with her then?” Aaron snapped. “Because Haley’s going to be so damn pleased to find out that your auntie’s cat is actually a drunk co-ed and that we took her back to our room to sleep it off, Dave.”

Derek’s room was closest to the stairwell. Between the three of them they could get her in there without detection, and his roommate was away. He was pretty sure he still had a sick bucket in there from the flu that Grant had caught last month.

“Get her into my room,” he said finally, breaking the tension. “We can sneak her in there, she can sober up, and no one is the wiser. I need to do homework anyway, I’ll keep an eye on her.”

Dave looked from Derek’s resigned face to Aaron’s hopeful one and gave in. “Alright. You’re the boss, boss.”

Oh yeah. Prentiss owed him big time for this.


	6. Responsibilities

Emily woke up with a pounding headache, a mouth that felt like she’d tried to eat Spencer’s Star Trek bed-socks, and the vaguest sensation that she’d lost control of her life. Movement seemed to be beyond her physical capabilities, so she lay completely still in the bed she’d woken in and contemplated death as an escape from this hangover. Even the slightest twitch of her extremities made the bed feel as though it was swaying under her. If she was the praying type, right about now she’d be promising someone that she’d never drink again if they made that sensation go right the fuck away. There was a gritty aftertaste in the back of her mouth that felt powdery and bitter when she tried to swallow. She knew that aftertaste.

Fuck. Good going, Prentiss. Good fucking going.

She opened her eyes a crack and tried to see where the hell she was, knowing instantly from the pervading scent of Lynx and male that there was no way she was in her own room.

_Oh god, don’t let me be crashed out at Spencer’s_. She didn’t think she could stand the shame of seeing the disappointment in his eyes at the state she was in. Her makeup was everywhere, her hair smelled fucking awful, and she didn’t even want to think about the state of her… clothes. Which were folded on the chair next to the bed. Embargo against movement forgotten, she shot upright, ignoring her pounding head in favour of the panicked thumps of her heart. What had she _done_ last night?

She was wearing clothes. Which was good. They weren’t hers. Which was bad. The room was empty, thankfully. Whoever she had gone home with the night before had cleared off before she’d woken up.

_Oh god. Oh god. Calm down. Breathe. Observe._

Books on law and criminology on one side of the room. Tattered posters of Monty Python on the other. A battered collection of fantasy paperbacks on the cupboard next to the bed she’d slept in. Football trophies on the shelf over the other side of the room, shoved carelessly behind more textbooks and partially hidden from view by clothes. Grant Anderson. She was in Anderson’s bed. Anderson’s bed in the room he shared with Derek Morgan.

Derek Morgan, whose shirt and track pants she was wearing instead of her own clothes. Anderson, who was away at his parents and hadn’t returned the books she’d loaned him because of it. A vague memory of arms around her shoulders and a deep voice in her ear. _“Come on, let’s get you into bed.”_

Oh god, had she _slept_ with Derek Morgan?

 

* * *

 

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to go out drinking?” Derek asked. “I mean, Emilt has been acting weird around me since last week. Do we really want a repeat of that?”

Dave laughed and waved his hand about. “Oh, stress less, my friend. I’m sure between the five of us we can exhibit some sort of calming influence over her. You’ve got maternal guidance down to a fine art, certainly.”

Aaron snorted rudely. “Oh yes. Because what you are most known for, Dave, is your calming influence.”

Dave pulled a face at him. “You’re still shitty because I interrupted your date with Haley last week. I did apologise, and I paid for your food!”

“Well, you’re going to have to be maternal on your own,” Aaron warned them. “Haley’s going to be there tonight, and I planned to be a goddamn Romeo to her. No interrupting.”

Dave thumped his hand over his heart and pulled an expression which he clearly meant to show innocence. It made Aaron nervous to see. He swore, if Dave interrupted him tonight, he was buying his friend a leash and tying him to Penelope. Let her handle him; she clearly had a knack for collecting wayward souls.

They rounded the corner, Derek’s gait still uneven although he’d lost the crutches in favour of a cane a few weeks ago. He’d chosen to leave it behind tonight, clearly not keen on showing up to a party with it, and Aaron was keeping him in eyesight. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the other student’s judgement when it came to his injury… he just didn’t want him overworking his knee and ending up back on crutches again.

Okay, maybe he was a little maternal. But could anyone blame him with the friends he’d ended up with? If Dave hadn’t been so damn keen that they go as a group (minus one very underage member) to this party, he’d have nixed the whole idea. There was a noticeable tension between a few of them at the moment, and Aaron wasn’t entirely sure alcohol was going to help. Dave seemed to think it would.

Dave was entirely too confident of alcohol’s ability to solve all their problems. This was Dave’s way of trying to get them all on the same level again. A solid week of Emily and Derek side-eyeing each other at the breakfast table was more than enough strain for all of them, and Aaron was pretty sure JJ was going to have a nervous breakdown if she had to keep refereeing the weird atmosphere between Spencer and Penelope. To add to that, since Spencer had started acting strange around Garcia, Emily was following his lead and was borderline abrasive in her responses to the normally bubbly woman. Which in turn was pissing Derek off, and the whole thing was basically a massive failure on everyone’s part to communicate.

That wasn’t even touching on his issues with Dave at the moment, although he was mature enough to admit they probably weren’t all Dave’s fault. When he saw the house that the party was hosted at, however, he was pretty sure he was about to add another black mark to Dave’s already charcoal coloured record.

“You said, and I’m quoting you almost directly here, Dave, ‘just a few quiet drinks with some of my friends.’” Aaron tried to keep his voice even, but this was absolutely not somewhere he wanted Emily loose at, especially not with her new ‘fuck-it-all’ attitude. “This place is packed!”

In his defence, Dave did look slightly put out. “That’s what I was told! I’m not a complete idiot!”

Derek tapped Aaron’s arm, cutting off what was probably about to be a full-scale argument between the two of them. “It’s alright, we’ll go in, have a few, and if it gets rowdy we’ll grab the girls and leave. There’s other places we can go.” Dave glared darkly at Aaron for a second, before nodding and checking his cell. Aaron shifted uncomfortably, not overly enjoying arguing with his best friend. A cell rang; Derek answering it reflectively and raising an eyebrow. “Hey, Babygirl. Yes, we’re here, we’re coming in… What? Why? _What_?”

That didn’t bode well. Aaron took one look at the incredulous expression on Derek’s face and exchanged a nervous look with Dave, their irritation with each other momentarily forgotten. They could hear Penelope’s voice getting shriller on the other side of the phone.

“Alright, alright, we’re coming now. Hang tight, don’t let them out of your sight. Keep JJ with him; do _not_ let him wander off with Prentiss. Leash them both if you have to. See you soon.” He hung up, dropping the hand that held his phone to his side and laughing darkly.

“What was that about?” Dave asked, taking the plunge. Better they know now rather than walk into a situation unprepared, Aaron figured.

“Prentiss brought a friend,” Derek said, his voice a mix between frustration and resignation. “JJ didn’t take it well.”

“Who?” Aaron asked, curious as to what could possibly upset the normally unflappable JJ.

“Spencer.”

 

* * *

 

“I haven’t drunk anything,” were the first words out of the increasingly nervous looking teenager as the three guys made their way over to the angry girls. “I’m well aware of the laws concerning underage drinking, and the adverse effect that alcohol has on the adolescent brain while the frontal cortex is still in the process of forming—”

“Shut up, Spencer,” Emily muttered, kicking his leg. His mouth closed with a snap that was almost comical as he ducked behind his overlong bangs.

Aaron was frowning, an expression that was becoming increasingly common on their oldest friend’s face. “Spencer, you can’t be here. You’re too young, it’s not safe.”

Spencer studied his shoes for a moment, before straightening and fixing Aaron with a look that could only be described as resolutely mulish. Derek had never seen the usually timid kid look quite so stubborn. He’d grown too, Derek noted with an oddly affectionate sentiment. Spencer had been the shortest of them all when they first started hanging out, noticeably so. Now he was just as tall as JJ and met Aaron’s gaze easily. _Uh oh,_ Derek thought. This must be what parents felt like when their teenagers bit back for the first time.

“The teenage years are considered the most important in regards to social development among peers. Without appropriate interaction with others, my emotional growth could be severely stunted,” Spencer rattled off, ignoring Emily’s attempts to shush him. “And, contrary to popular belief, I am not a child. I am capable of making my own choices about my wellbeing, regardless of the influence of outside social paradigms, and I am perfectly capable of reasoned and rationed responses in the event of a peer pressure situation involving alcohol.” He stopped, thrown by the startled silence surrounding him. Derek watched as the confidence he’d just shown vanished, replaced by uncertainty as his shoulders slumped and he glanced down. “And I don’t want to sit at home by myself while my friends are having fun…”

JJ’s furious expression turned to guilt as she looked back and forth between Spencer and Emily. Derek guessed that she’d been in the middle of dressing Emily down about bringing Spencer here before his startling speech. Penelope looked oddly proud. Aw hell, even he didn’t want Spencer to leave after that. It wasn’t fair, the way they treated him like the odd kid out all the time. If he was a part of their group they should treat him as an equal. He’d already proven countless times that he was the smartest out of them and it was time they acted like it.

That meant letting the kid make his own mistakes.

“Well, I’m all for it,” Derek announced loudly, earning a shocked look from Emily. He smirked, pleased that he’d shocked her. She had clearly expected him to be vocally against this.

“As am I. Let the kid have some fun; he’s already proven he’s more mature than I was at sixteen,” Dave chipped in. Derek didn’t think that was a high bar to scale.

“I’m not,” JJ said, still guilty. “I’m sorry, Spence, but things could go wrong. I’ve seen it before, with my sister and her friends.”

“Spence isn’t your sister,” Emily snapped. “He’s capable of looking after himself. I’d trust his judgement over my own.”

“Who wouldn’t?” Derek muttered, earning a cold look. Dave elbowed him.

“They have cola,” Penelope interjected, her voice almost impossible to hear over the music. They all, with the exception of Emily who was trying to glare a hole into the side of Derek’s head, looked to Aaron, the unofficial final say in the matter.

Aaron rolled his eyes and shrugged. “He stays with someone from the group at all times. I’m going to find Haley. Try not to kill each other, please.” This final statement seemed to be aimed at Derek, who scowled, irritated that he had been singled out.

It was Emily who had the problem. Maybe if she worked on her attitude, this wouldn’t be an issue. He glared after Aaron’s retreating back, ignoring the voice in the back of his head that pointed out that he was being slightly immature right at this instant.

Okay, maybe a lot immature.

Fuck.

“Well, I’m going to go get drinks,” Dave announced. “Want to help me out, JJ?” JJ hesitated before nodding assent and following him into the crowd. Derek saw the perfect chance to sort out some shit. He hadn’t missed the tension between Spencer and Penelope the past week, and he and Emily weren’t going to sort things out by ignoring each other.

“Want to come check out the layout with me?” he asked her, forgoing his usual charming grin for a serious expression. He wasn’t going to trick her into this. She was a smart girl; she’d know that he meant to finally sort things out between them. The next step was her choice.

Her dark eyes met his, troubled, before flickering back to Spencer and Penelope. This would give them two a chance to talk as well. “Alright,” she said, nodding once. “Alright, fine. After you.”

 

* * *

 

Derek led her outside and waited patiently for her to start the conversation. She quietly panicked. How do you start a conversation like this? _“Hey Derek, did you take advantage of me while I was wasted last week_?” Yeah, because that wouldn’t piss him right off. If she was honest with herself, did she really believe Derek was capable of that? She might not always get along with him (understatement), but he seemed to be a genuinely good guy under all the charm and bluster. Probably. So really, like usual, it was her own insecurities shining through here that were the problem.

_Deep breath. Let’s try something new, Prentiss. Let’s try honesty for once_. “I have trust issues.”

Derek’s eyebrows shot up. “No shit.”

Oh, he wasn’t going to make this easy at all, was he? Of all the arrogant, pain in the ass males that she’d ever dealt with, he was the most aggravating. Even _Dave_ was less annoying, which was saying something as the man had once released a bucketful of live butterflies into JJ’s room as a prank. JJ, with her usual easy going manner, had been utterly charmed by the prank, but honestly, butterflies? Which reminded her of another apology she was going to have to make, unless she wanted harsh words between them to sour relations between her and JJ. First things first, though.

“Shut up,” she snapped, feeling her irritation levels tick up another notch as he smirked at her. “I have trust issues. I’m reckless. I don’t think things through.”

“I didn’t bring you out here so you can list off your faults, Emily. And if you think I’m going to reciprocate by telling you everything that I’m crap at…”

“I’m not. I’m trying to explain why I make the decisions I do, and why I’m such a godawful judge of character.”

Derek was silent for a moment, his brown eyes grim. “You know, last week, I never touched you. We took you back to my room, and we put you to bed. You dressed yourself, I didn’t look, and you slept. That’s it.” She could see the hurt in his expression as he pieced together the standoffish way she’d been acting the past week. He clearly hadn’t even considered that as a reason why she’d be mad at him.

We?

Oh.

Aaron and Dave. That would explain the strange looks Aaron had given her when she had expressed interest in this party. And why her jacket smelled so strongly of Dave’s cologne.

A hurt Derek was harder to deal with than an angry one. At least she knew what to do with an angry one. “I know, I know. Well, I do now. It’s just… I’ve seen it happen before, you know? And like I said, I have trust issues. I’m sorry, Derek. I’m really goddamn sorry.”

He studied her, thinking. “I should have talked to you earlier, I shouldn’t have let this drag out so long.” The smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “So the blame is on both of us here. I propose a truce, a proper one this time. We actually try not to press each other’s buttons for once and see where that gets us. And you learn to trust us a little more… we’re here for you.”

She snorted, not really seeing that lasting long. “Alright fine, but with one more addition to the truce.” He wasn’t going to like this. But it was time they both grew up and started facing their problems instead of running from them. “You want me to trust you guys more? Fine. But I want you to admit you’re struggling.” There it was. The shock, and then panic, in his eyes. No more sneaking around the issue. She was sick of watching Spencer try and fail to reach him and Penelope worrying herself into an early grave. “Just listen to me, Derek. I need help. I have problems, ones I can’t face on my own. Last week showed me that. But you? You’re struggling just as much as I am, you’re just too proud to admit it. It’s time the both of us grow up and ask for help. I don’t want to do it alone.”

Silence. What more could she say? He’d either agree with her, or he’d walk away and never speak to her again. If he did that, she’d lose everything. She had no misconceptions that the group would choose her over Derek.

Hell, she wouldn’t even choose herself over Derek.

He stepped towards her and her heart leapt into her throat. She ignored the temptation to step back or to show any fear; she had to show she was serious about trusting him. Tilting her head back, she met his scrutiny without flinching and knew she’d made the right call. “Alright, Emily,” he said, voice low. “Alright. Deal’s on. I’m going to hug you now, okay?”

She nodded, blinking frantically. She was not going to tear up in front of Derek. She was _not_ going to cry at a party surrounded by strangers in front of Derek Morgan. As he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, she re-assessed that thought. He was shaking slightly, just as nervous about this as she was.

Maybe that was what trusting friends required; letting them see you cry.

 

* * *

 

Dave had had a few. More than a few in fact. Logically speaking, he was probably closer to plastered than he was to tipsy. Sober David Rossi was an excellent judge of any situation. The life of the party, as his Nona had always told him. Drunk David Rossi was still an excellent judge of situations, even if his balance was slightly more impaired. His nonna probably didn’t agree with him there, but that was only because he had never let her see him drunk.

At this particular moment in time, Drunk Dave was reading the situation as probably a DEFCON 1 level catastrophe.

He’d handled all the DEFCON levels in his time. That time Anderson had gotten drunk and fallen off the balcony while trying to moonwalk; that was a 3. It would have been a 4, but he’d broken not only his wrist but also two planters of expensive orchids that Dave had needed to replace before the owner came home and saw them. Aaron getting drunk and falling asleep in the wrong dorm room? That was a 5. Low level, easy to straighten out. Appropriate hush money to the room’s occupants so the incident didn’t get back to Haley, easy done. This? This was a nuclear level disaster that was probably going to spell the end of their friendship.

There wasn’t enough hush money in the world to make this go away.

“David fucking Rossi,” Haley slurred, leaning against him as he backed up against a wall. He resisted the temptation to sidle out from under her and let her fall into the wall; there was no need to be childish. _Where the hell is JJ?_

“Yes, I have been called that before,” he muttered. “Although never quite in _that_ tone of voice.” He grabbed her hand as she tried to slip it up his shirt, pulling it up and to the side like an awkward dance. Where the hell was Aaron? Hell, he’d even settle for Spencer to poke his awkward nose in this.

On second thought, he’d much rather Spencer than Aaron. He really didn’t need his hot-headed friend seeing this.

Haley smelled like spicy perfume, alcohol and just the faintest hint of her boyfriend; enough to make Dave’s gut twist with guilt even though he was decidedly not letting this happen. It was an attractive mix of scents, and he kicked furiously at the tiny part of his lizard brain that was thoroughly enjoying this.

“Haley,” he warned as her other hand crept up his hip. His hands were both preoccupied at this point, one gripping her other wrist, the other pressed against her shoulder, holding her body off of his. “Haley, what are you doing? Where’s Aaron?”

She didn’t answer, just narrowed her eyes in a way that instantly had him suspect that she wasn’t anywhere near as drunk as she seemed. People at her supposed level of intoxication didn’t react that quickly. Which meant he was really at a disadvantage here, having been trying (unsuccessfully) to drink Derek under the table all night. The man was a tank, the alcohol didn’t even seem to affect him. He was stronger than her. He could shove her down easy, walk (stumble) away from this whole mess before someone saw. Physically he could, anyway. Mentally? David Rossi had never been physical with a woman, and he didn’t really want his best friend’s girlfriend to be the first. Haley despised him; why on earth was she doing this?

Payback?

She knew what he thought of her, and she knew he was aware that she hadn’t always been as loyal to Aaron as she seemed. He hadn’t told anyone (mistake); he didn’t need it driving an even bigger wedge between him and his friend. Guess she figured this was enough to ruin his credibility enough so Aaron wouldn’t believe anything else he came up with either. Although, it was rather much like shooting herself in the foot as well. Aaron would forgive Haley a lot easier than he would forgive Dave for this. Maybe. Or maybe Haley was done with Aaron and was enacting her revenge against Dave at the same time.

She slumped in a way that had him reacting without thinking, trying to catch her before she hit the ground. Her arms latched around his neck in a grip that was vice-like, and her nose nuzzled warmly against his neck.

Right, fuck this. That was enough, this needed to stop now.

He grabbed her hands with his, the uneven weight distribution almost toppling him forward as he tried to curve his face away from her, glancing around frantically for any sign of Aaron (bad) or one of his group who would help extract him (very, very good).

Straight up into a startled pair of hazel eyes.

 

* * *

 

It hadn’t really been so hard to shake Penelope’s watchful gaze, not really. Especially once she’d joined in drinking some terrible neon blue concoctions with JJ and Emily. He’d hovered around the edge of the group long enough that when they turned their attention to Derek and Dave’s attempts to drink themselves into comas, he’d slipped away.

He’d fully intended to stand by his earlier speech. He was going to be responsible and trustworthy and not shoot himself in the foot by screwing up the first time they’d showed a little faith in him. But, this was his first house party, and he also stood by his earlier statement that social interaction was good for him. Even just observing behaviour around him to form conclusions about the social interactions of intoxicated co-eds with ‘frat’ boys. Or something.

… Okay, maybe he just really wanted to join in.

He’d already worked out that if he carried around a cup of cola then no one bothered him about drinking, and he could mostly move about unhindered. A few people even struck up conversations with him, although the exchanges were limited by their alcohol-hindered attention spans. Most of them recognised him. They were much friendlier drunk than they were sober; excitedly introducing him to others as though his intelligence was a novelty. He supposed it was, really, seeing as he was the youngest here by far.

His cell stayed silent, so he theorized his disappearance had either gone unremarked upon, or they’d just assumed that he’d wandered off with Aaron. He continued thinking that, until someone grabbed his arm and pulled him to the side of the crowd. He turned with a sheepish grin, expecting a wrathful JJ or amused Emily.

“Hello Spencer Reading,” she said with a bright smile, shaking her hair back. Taylor. Ah.

Complication.

Emily had been adamantly against him interacting with Taylor… although, that hadn’t stopped him from replying to her texts. Including the… ah… more suggestive ones. He wasn’t going to tell _anyone_ about those, especially not Emily. Of course, Emily had also agreed to trust his judgement. Not quite in regards to Taylor, but it could be inferred that…

He became aware of the fact that he had been standing in front of her grinning stupidly instead of responding to her. His grin vanished and he felt his face heat up. “Taylor, hello! I err, didn’t expect to see you here.”

She laughed loudly, her face flushed and eyes hazy. “I live nearby. Now you; you I definitely didn’t expect to see. Aren’t you a little young to be here?”

Which was true, but somehow coming from her it stung. He frowned, fighting the ridiculous desire to deny his youth. “I’m just here with some friends, keeping them company.” He was blatantly alone. He hoped she didn’t comment on that… somehow he didn’t think Aaron would take too kindly to her either. JJ, maybe.

She took his arm. He noted with some small pleasure that his sudden, and long awaited, growth spurt had put him slightly taller than her. He was pretty sure he was never going to take this new height for granted. “What are you drinking?” she asked, gesturing at his cup with her own, filled with some sort of neon green liquid. Spencer wasn’t quite sure why women’s alcohol needed to be so florescent, but it was extremely disconcerting.

“Oh, err,” Spencer stammered, once again fighting the urge to lie. How did Derek and Dave manage to bring so many different women home? It was nerve-wracking enough talking to the one, even without intentions. Even with only slight intentions.

Even with intentions he didn’t intend upon admitting.

“It’s soda. I’m not drinking. Underage.” He tried to shrug disarmingly, but knew his face was heating up again.

“Would you like to try mine?” she offered, holding her cup out invitingly. Her nails were red. He licked his lip nervously, heart hammering. “When in Rome…”

“No,” Spencer replied immediately, with all honesty. There was no way he was ever going to consume anything quite that vivid. She laughed at him, the flush from her face working its way down the pale skin of her throat, and he could smell the sugary alcohol scent on her breath. Well, at least drunk women found him amusing. Maybe the solution to his social awkwardness was just to keep the people around him permanently inebriated.

“Oh. Well, I’m sure there’s other options. Just one?” She beamed at him and his good intentions were quickly replaced with hurried calculations. Body mass, food consumed over the past several hours, alcohol content…. he could have one without it affecting his motor functions. Just one. He took the offered drink she returned with and forced himself to not look around guiltily for his friends. It was only _one_.

And he did. Have one that is. One drink of something much less green than whatever she was drinking. At least, he could have sworn he only had one.

Which was why he found himself staring fuzzily into his empty cup, fingers sticky with condensation, and wondering just how exactly he’d managed to get _this_ drunk. And he was undoubtedly drunk. He’d always prided himself on keeping his mind and thoughts in order and now his thoughts were chasing each other in excited circles, except for when they stopped and he found himself hyper-focusing on some detail; the uneven gloss on her lips (he wondered what flavour); the way the lights caught the scratches on his glasses and fractured into shattered lines across his vision. He was leaning against a wall, partially against the warmth of Taylor’s side with her hand (sweaty, overly warm and callused. Manual labour. What kind?) resting on top of his; propped on a leg that occasionally slipped out from under him as though it was trying to run away, causing the need to rebalance periodically to avoid ending up on her lap. This took all of his concentration and for a moment he enjoyed the pleasant way the world swirled about him, ignoring the heady taste of guilt in the back of his mouth. He was supposed to be responsible, he’d _promised._

_I only had one,_ he thought to himself, before tucking his head against Taylor (she smelled of coumarin and sweat and it made his head swim and his pulse stutter) and thinking desperately about sitting down. Standing didn’t feel quite so stable anymore. His head slipped down her shoulder. His nose fitted nicely against her clavicle, tucking agreeably in the small dip of warm, sweet-smelling skin on her shoulder. “You have nice bones,” he carefully stated, struggling to form the words without slurring. She shifted against him and he thought she might be laughing, but he was too busy counting the freckles on her skin to make sure.

He heard her say the word _drunk_ and wanted to protest, to point out that he’d only had one, and he had _responsibilities,_ but the words got lost between his brain and mouth. To hide his shame, he pressed his mouth against her skin and felt her shiver slightly. He found himself moving and had to take careful notice of the placement of his feet; one after the other, not bumping unsteadily into people, and all this took so much deliberation that he wasn’t really paying attention as to where he was going. He continued like that until he actually started paying attention, and then everything suddenly turned very sharp and real.

He became aware of several things all at once. One: Taylor was leading him away from everyone else. Towards the bedroom.

Two: he didn’t want to do this.

Three: he absolutely did not want to do this.

As it turned out, even when drunk, he was pretty good at magic tricks. He slipped his arm out of hers and pulled back towards the crowd. Distract. Divert. Disappear. _Magic._ He was pretty sure he was going to have a lot of apologising to do to her in the morning, but he was conscious of the fact that he was sixteen years old, not in any state for reasoned consent, and completely out of his depth. The constantly shifting crowd and music served to completely disorient him. He thought maybe that he was aimlessly going in circles. He felt sick. He felt lost. He felt like he really, really wanted to lie down, to sleep, to just… stop.

He really wanted his friends.

He’d also lost his jacket at some point, with only a vague memory of feeling uncomfortably warm and shedding it. With his phone in the pocket.

Desperately, he hugged the wall and moved from room to room, looking around for _someone_ he recognised. Anyone. If he fell—and he was going to soon because his stomach was churning, his mouth was watering with the taste of bile, and the world was closing in suffocatingly around him—he’d be completely alone and vulnerable. Vulnerable. Not safe, not safe, _not safenotsafe…_

Panicking.

Stumbling, tripping, his legs sprawled over a couple wrapped around each other; falling backwards and against a chair. Ow. He rubbed his spine, the bruise that was going to be there, and looked at the couple accusingly. The guy staggered upright and met Spencer’s gaze with a stressed expression that turned to familiarity and then relief in quick succession. Spencer swallowed hard, tasting vomit. _Dave_ , he realized blurrily, fighting the nausea and losing. _You are really way too drunk for one drink,_ he told himself dully. Chest constricting, he felt his breath beginning to whistle. _Stop panicking. Stop._

It didn’t work.

Dave successfully disentangled himself from the woman, dumping her on the floor as he straightened. “Spencer!” he said, and Spencer was pretty sure that no one had ever sounded that happy to see him before. Spencer blinked stupidly at Dave, still struggling to breathe and not trusting himself to open his mouth, before glancing down at the woman. He wasn’t entirely sure if it was the alcohol or not, but he was pretty sure that that was Aaron’s girlfriend.

_Oh dear,_ he thought, sitting down hard on the floor next to her and frowning in her direction. She stared back, her mouth moving soundlessly. Then she reached for him, touched his face. He couldn’t feel it. _Aaron is really not going to like this._

“Aaron is really not going to like this,” he repeated out loud in case they hadn’t heard him. Dave was crouching in front of him now. Dave was touching him now. Shaking him. _Stop that._ He slumped forward into his friend’s arms thankfully.

Then he passed out.


	7. Broken Pedestals

**Dave** : **FRONT. NOW. BRING OTHERS.**

Derek stared at the new text blurrily, hoping to god that things hadn’t gone wrong. They’d been having a good night so far… why did things _always_ go wrong? “Girls, the great Rossi summons us,” he called, standing and gesturing grandly with his arms. He could keep the fun vibes going. He could do this. There wasn’t anything that Dave could throw at him that would ruin this night.

“Is something wrong?” Penelope shouted into his ear over the music, wrapping her arm around his shoulder and weaving with him through the throngs of people towards the exit. Emily and JJ followed close behind, heads together as they whispered and giggled over something that had JJ blushing brightly. It was strange to see Emily laughing.

It was nice.

“Dave probably picked up and wants to bail,” Derek suggested. “Or maybe Aaron is asleep somewhere ridiculous again.” Penelope was reminiscing happily about the time they’d found Aaron and Dave asleep in an elevator, cuddled together like puppies in a basket, when they reached the front door and stepped out into the cool night.

Just in time to see Aaron punch Dave square in the face.

Penelope screamed as Dave hit the ground with a meaty slapping sound, people beginning to gather into a loose circle around them and drunkenly cheering on the fight. Derek blinked in surprise, good vibes rapidly retreating.

Nope. Dave being punched in the nose was not going to ruin his night. Hell, this might even be a good thing. God knows, Derek occasionally felt the desire to punch him himself.

“Spence,” JJ murmured, pushing past them and jogging over to the garden where the kid was sitting on a paver, staring at the empty road with an uncharacteristically vacant expression. Emily followed, barely sparing the two brawling guys a glance. Derek hesitated, Penelope still pressed against his side, torn between breaking up the fight and going over to where the girls were crouching. Was there something wrong with Spencer?

“Derek, you need to get in there,” Penelope urged him, shaking his arm.

“Why?” he grumbled. “It’s about time Aaron stuck up for himself. They won’t hurt each other that badly. Dave probably just upset Haley again…”

Penelope looked at him and then at the fight. And then back. “Well, I’m no expert on proper fighting etiquette, but it doesn’t look like Aaron is holding back that much,” she told him, eyes wide with worry behind her glasses. “And Dave isn’t exactly defending himself.”

Derek sighed and pushed through the crowd in front. “Go to the girls,” he called back to her over his shoulder. He was younger than both Aaron and Dave. Why did _he_ have to be the grown up? Breaking through, he quickly reassessed his opinion of the fight. Aaron had Dave pinned and was hitting him without any regard for his friend’s face, even as Dave kept his arms up to protect it. He wasn’t fighting back.

Fuck.

“Aaron, what the hell?!” Derek shouted, grabbing him by his arm as he drew it up to strike again. “Calm down, man! Step off!” Aaron snarled, trying to drag his arm back so he could dive back down onto Dave, who had taken the chance to try pulling himself out from under them. The crowd around them booed, spoiling for a show. Derek could hear JJ telling them to clear off, cussing like a sailor at any who spoke back to her. Aaron’s normally calm expression was gone, replaced by a look of utter fury. Derek had seen eyes like that before, usually right before someone got jumped back home. There wasn’t much use reasoning with someone with those eyes. He wrapped his arms around Aaron in a bear hug, trying to stop the older guy from bailing after his injured friend.

And Derek had been wrong in that aspect. Aaron had not held back from hurting Dave like he’d thought he would. Dave’s face was splattered with blood from what was probably going to end up being a broken nose, and his clothes were torn and filthy. He winced as he tried to stand, wheezing and placing one hand over his ribcage in a way that had Derek already planning the trip to ER.

“Are you alright?” he called over Aaron’s shoulder, trying to avoid getting elbowed in the gut by the increasingly agitated man.

“Who fucking cares?” Aaron shouted, twisting in his grip and shoving roughly at him. “Derek, let me go! Don’t get involved!”

“Let me explain,” Dave pleaded, voice thick through a mouth that was rapidly swelling. He spat blood on the pavement, backing up a little more with tentative, wincing steps. “It’s not what it looked like, Aaron, please.”

“Aaron, it wasn’t anything. I’m sorry—just let us talk,” a third voice broke in, and Derek turned his head to spot Haley standing by the edge of the crowd. “I’m sorry, I should have come and gotten you as soon as it happened.”

“Fuck off, Haley!” Dave and Aaron both yelled at once. She glared at Aaron with a hurt expression, before turning and storming off. Derek felt his gut knot. Oh brilliant. He didn’t need to be a genius to see where this was going.

“Look, let’s just go and work this out,” Derek started saying, loosening his grip slightly.

Mistake. Aaron surged forward shouting, almost dragging Derek with him. “He made out with my girlfriend! I thought you were my friend, Dave!” Derek locked his hold and tried to pull Aaron back before he could reach Dave, who was determinately not backing down.

“She came onto me! Ask Spencer, he saw it!” Dave responded, desperately. “You’ve just got Haley’s point of view! She’s a goddamn lying bitch!”

Aaron stopped suddenly, throwing Derek off balance, before shoving back at him. Derek yelped as the two of them fell together awkwardly, feeling his knee twist up under him. The burning, liquid pain that shot up his leg moments later was all too familiar. _Fuck, not again,_ he had time to think, before his world contracted to the agony that was his knee, falling to the distant sound of someone screaming.

 

* * *

 

“He’s smashed,” JJ said. Her face was a strange mix of disappointment and disbelief. “He is _completely_ fucking wasted.”

Emily watched them over her shoulder, fighting the urge to laugh. Well, for once she wasn’t the fuck-up of the night. Here they were, all carefully keeping an eye on her, and it was their golden boy who’d managed to disappoint them all. She felt almost guilty for the amusement she took from that.

Well, she wasn’t completely amused by it. After all, she was maybe possibly a little bit responsible. She had let him come after all, after he’d cornered her in the dorm and demanded to be allowed. He’d given her some variation of the speech he’d given the others and she’d caved. How could she not? Ah hell, it wasn’t like this would hurt him. He’d have a hangover in the morning and probably not touch alcohol for at least another two years. This was a learning experience for him. Judging by the miserable expressions on the other two girls’ faces, they probably weren’t as optimistic about it as she was. Spencer’s head hung low, his eyes heavy lidded, and he was completely zonked out.

It was a little unsettling, the immobile way he was sitting. Spencer was a bastion of movement; constantly jiggling or twitching, the relentless motion grating endlessly on her nerves. But now, he was sitting completely still, his long limbs tucked up close to his body and chin resting on his bony knees.

He bore a startling resemblance to a dead spider, curling into himself, and she felt her amusement steadily shift into an ice cold chill in the pit of her chest. Swallowing back trepidation, she crouched down next to JJ and reached forward, lifting his chin until his eyes were level with hers.

His lids were hooded over an empty stare, and she tapped him sharply on the cheek with her other hand. “Oi, Shrimpy. Wake up now. You’re missing all the fun, Dave’s finally getting his ass kicked.”

JJ made a disapproving noise next to her, and she could hear the rustle of fabric as the woman turned around to try and peer through the endless rows of legs between them and the action.

“He doesn’t look right,” Penelope said, crouching and poking at his shoulder with a trembling finger. “He’s so pale—is he okay? Is that okay? That’s not okay, is it?” Emily could her voice beginning to crack with panic, panic that they very much didn’t need right now.

She’d taken a first aid course once, ages ago. The medic had showed them how to startle someone awake, hadn’t they? She was pretty sure she could remember. “Brace him for me, don’t let him slump backwards,” she told Penelope, whose face dropped.

“Brace him?” she squeaked. “Why?”

“Just do it,” Emily snapped, waiting for Penelope to do so before unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt. She could see the shuddering rise and fall of his chest (shallow and intermittent, both bad things) and desperately tried to think back to her first aid classes. Was he conscious? How could she tell? Clenching her fist, she pressed her knuckles against his chest and rubbed them back and forth hard over his sternum. She’d had it done to her before, and it was not fun. He jerked violently under her hand, startling all three of them. Emily watched as his eyelids snapped open, exposing wide, dark eyes. Holy fuck; his pupils were diluted enough that she could fucking _drown_ in them.

“Jesus Christ,” JJ muttered. “I am never letting you out of my sight again, Spence.”

Emily ignored her, tapping sharply on his cheek again. His reactions were sluggish, fractured. Fear made her hands begin to shake, almost unnoticeably. She dropped them quickly so the other women didn’t see and panic. “Spencer? Hey, idiot, you with us?”

JJ made that noise again, clearly taking offence at her use of the word idiot, but Emily was running on the assumption that Spencer’s ego wouldn’t bear the slight to his intelligence. If anything got him to respond, that would.

That was assuming that Spencer even had an ego.

The angry noise JJ was making changed into a hiss of concern as he finally managed to keep his eyes open long enough to make unsteady eye contact. “Holy shit, Emily. Look at his pupils.”

Emily didn’t have to look, she’d already seen. There was only the barest hint of hazel around the edges, completely unresponsive to any light.

“Aaron?” Spencer slurred, letting his head thump back against Penelope’s arm. Emily felt like gagging at the loose way his head rolled on his neck, as though he had no control over his muscles anymore. It was such a sharp contrast to his usual careful, precise way of moving that it was alien and frightening.

“He’s stoned,” Emily said uselessly. The other two had clearly already come to that conclusion themselves, faces paling nervously. “Shit, Spencer, what did you take? How _much_ did you take?”

“He wouldn’t,” Penelope snapped. “He wouldn’t have taken anything by choice. God, Emily. You know Spencer; there’s no way he’d take drugs willingly.”

That left one option. Her hands stopped shaking. The fear vanished, replaced by an ice cold _nothing_ that sharpened everything around her. When he woke up, he was going to tell her who he was with, and then Emily was going to find the cunt who did this and they were _fucked_.

Well, maybe she’d give him to the rest of the group and see what they thought as well. She had to remember that she wasn’t alone anymore.

“We need to get him out of here,” JJ told them, standing. “I’m going to get the guys, he’s not going to be able to walk.” Emily had almost forgotten about the drama happening behind them. The crowd’s cheers had shifted to booing and frustrated cursing, so she assumed Derek had been successful in calming the other two down.

Penelope pulled Spencer into a hug, letting him slump bonelessly into her arms, his face hidden by her hair. “What are you doing?” Emily asked, trying to ignore the adrenaline kicking in. “We need to get him up.”

Penelope shook her head, her eyes following JJ as she cussed her way through the crowd. “We need the boys to do that. Until then, I don’t want anyone getting a good look at him.” Her eyes met Emily’s, fear magnified by her brightly coloured frames. “He’s sixteen; it only takes one report to the dean and the college will have to act to save its reputation. They won’t have someone so young getting into trouble on campus.”

Emily nodded, settling herself next to Penelope and leaning against Spencer’s other side. She could feel the uneven beat of his heart against her ribcage, and she focused on that instead of panicking. _Keep doing that,_ she thought, closing her eyes and focusing on that beat. _Come on kid. Just keep doing that._

There was no way in hell she was letting one mistake ruin Spencer’s life; the kid had too much potential. Wait for the boys. They’d work this out, as a team. She took a deep breath, listening to Pen whispering to herself.

No… not to herself.

“We’re here, we’re always going to be here,” Penelope was murmuring, tucking her chin against Spencer’s sweat-damp hair. “You just keep on keeping on, and we’ll wait for you to wake up again, okay baby? You’re safe, we’ll keep you safe.” Emily ignored the drunken shouting and cheering going on around her, focusing on Penelope’s soothing rambling and the continued steady beat of Spencer’s heart. Her memory tugged at her, remembering her mom once teaching her some silly rhyme. It didn’t sound like something Mom would do, but listening to the steady _ba-bump_ next to her was almost... nostalgic.

Mom crouching in front of her with flour-streaked hands, wiping away tacky tears from her cheek and pressing a small hand against her chest, her heartbeat thudding through Emily’s palm. _Makes my heart beat, two-forty-six._ _One. Two. Three. Four. Five._ A stupid clapping game. That didn’t sound at all like Mom. Emily frowned, trying to push the memory away.

Then the screaming started.

 

* * *

 

Dave watched numbly as the two men toppled backwards, seeing what was going to happen but powerless to stop it. Derek’s face twisted horribly as they fell, his mouth gaping open in a wordless shriek before his vocal cords caught up with his brain and the real screaming began. Aaron had managed to steady himself, his furious gaze locked on Dave, but before he could resume his assault, his friend’s cries of pain penetrated his consciousness and he span around. Dave watched as the anger drained away in an instant. He’d never actually seen a physical representation of ‘white as a ghost’ before now, but Aaron was doing a fucking great impression of it right now.

“Oh fuck, Derek!” Aaron cried, dropping to his knees next to his friend and reaching for his leg. Derek was clutching at his knee, shaking uncontrollably, as close to being out of his mind as Dave had ever seen him. Sweat dripped off his face and the crowd had fallen horribly silent as he retched with the pain. Dave prided himself on being the first to react in an emergency, but right now he was reeling with the throbbing from his ribs and face and what he was pretty sure was a concussion. All he could do was dazedly watch the two on the ground.

Aaron was looking around, his eyes snapping from person to person as he tried to find someone sober enough to help. JJ appeared as though summoned by the screams, not even hesitating before running towards them. “JJ, call an ambulance,” Aaron instructed her, his voice a lot calmer than his expression suggested. He turned, eyes skimming over Dave as though he wasn’t there, calling past him. “Oi, you! In the blue shirt! Go get ice, lots of it. You, next to him. Pillows, cushions, anything. Now!”

JJ was on the phone, one hand holding Derek’s shoulder down as he struggled to sit up, his screams turning to gasping moans. “We’re elevating and icing the limb. Yes, it’s a prior injury. We’ll stay with him…”

Taking a few stumbling steps back, Dave hissed at the pain in his ribs. He didn’t need to be here. Aaron needed to concentrate on helping Derek. Dave’s presence would just distract from that. He looked around, hoping to spot Emily in the crowd, figuring that maybe she was somewhere with Spencer. He had a vague memory of half-carrying the semi-conscious teenager outside and depositing him on a rock before the apoplectic Aaron had turned up. He’d had time to fire off a lightning fast text to Derek, before Aaron had proceeded to attempt to rearrange his face. It would probably be for the best if he just found himself somewhere to sleep this night off… he’d just let the others deal with things without him complicating them.

Dave shoved through the crowd, ignoring the angry mutters around him, limping alone up the street. He could hear sirens wailing behind him, approaching quickly. People were scattering, not wanting to be there when authorities arrived. Aaron constantly told him that he was a narcissist with an attention complex, always needing to be in the spotlight. Most of the time, Dave agreed. Not tonight. Tonight, for once, he just wanted to be invisible. The anger and pain on his best friend’s face, pain that he’d caused, Derek’s injury, all of it. He couldn’t deal with it.

He needed to be anywhere but here.

 

* * *

 

Pre-dawn light turned the campus a hazy blue as JJ finally made her way home from the hospital. Her breath was a puff of fog in front of her face as she tried to blow warm air into her hands to defrost them, half-jogging from where the taxi had left them towards the dorm.

She was exhausted, her muscles aching from being tensed with stress all night, a dull throbbing in the base of her skull a stark reminder of the drinks she’d consumed before everything had gone to crap. Her eyes burned like she’d been rubbing sand into them, and she shuddered to think what her make-up and hair must look like.

Aaron paced steadily beside her, head down and lost within his own thoughts. She could see her exhaustion mirrored in his body and face, with the added guilt that she knew he was piling onto himself. His hands were bandaged, courtesy of a grim-faced nurse. She hoped that Emily and Penelope had gotten Spencer home okay. She hadn’t even told Aaron about him yet, really not looking forward to _that_ conversation.

The hospital wait had been as endless and frustrating as the previous one. JJ had been fighting off a dull sensation of deja-vu the whole night, remembering the last time she’d sat in a hard-backed plastic chair in a hospital waiting room anticipating news about Derek. The doctor hadn’t said much since they weren’t family, just informed them that Derek was in surgery and that there was no point waiting because he was heavily sedated. The entire time they’d barely said more than a few words to each other, and none that had included anything that wasn’t, _“Do you want some coffee?”_ or, _“I’m going to the bathroom.”_

Aaron slowed his pace gradually as they drew closer to the dorms. JJ could guess why. She didn’t know what he and Dave were fighting about, but it wasn’t really a wound that needed to be reopened again until after they’d all gotten some sleep. “Do you want to stay with us tonight?” she asked softly.

Aaron blinked, looking up at her with a startled expression as though he’d forgotten she was there. Perhaps he had. When he spoke, his voice was husky and cracked, almost as though he’d been crying. “Please.” She didn’t say anything else, seeing the raw pain in his eyes, and they silently slipped in the dorms together, tiptoeing up the stairs to the third floor. Aaron resolutely avoided looking at Derek’s door as they passed it, mouth twisting miserably as he stared straight ahead.

JJ glanced up the hall to where Spencer’s room stood opposite Emily’s. She dearly wanted to go and stick her head into at least one of them, check they were okay, but she wasn’t quite sure how to broach the subject with Aaron. Aaron had sort of assumed leadership over their oddball group and she knew that he’d probably blame himself for Spencer’s potential… whatever had happened to him. Her gut felt twisted to think of the possibilities.

Maybe they could hide it from him.

First thing she was doing when she woke up was going down to the chemists in town and buying a drug testing kit. Most benzos would show up on it. Until they had confirmation of what had happened, they’d keep it hidden from the more… emotionally compromised of the group.

JJ realized her cell was still off from the hospital and swore inwardly. Penelope must have been absolutely losing her mind being kept out of the loop. Expecting her bubbly housemate to immediately overwhelm her with questions, JJ cautiously slipped her key in the lock and pushed the door open. Two pairs of eyes immediately turned to meet her, both wide with concern.

JJ froze in the doorway, Aaron bumping into her as she stopped. Penelope stood from where she’d been fiddling with the computer at her desk, her gaze flickering from JJ to Aaron, before darting guiltily to her bed where the covers were pulled over a still, sleeping form. Emily was lying on JJ’s bed, phone in one hand, dark eyes locked on Aaron’s face. JJ should have known that Penelope wouldn’t sleep until they found out what was happening and that she wouldn’t let the others out of her sight. JJ prayed to every god that was listening that it was Spencer sleeping in Penelope’s bed, and not Dave.

Nodding at them, she waited until they’d closed the door firmly behind them before speaking in a low voice. She doubted they’d be able to hide Spence from Aaron now, seeing as it appeared they were having a sleepover. “How is he?”

Penelope scooted the chair forward, tugging the blanket on him down and pursing her lips. “He’s been out for hours. He was all wrong on the way home... we should have taken him to the hospital.”

JJ felt Aaron stiffen next to her. “What’s wrong with him?” he said, voice sharp. “JJ, you didn’t say Spencer was sick.” She flinched at the accusatory tone in his voice.

She was saved from answering by Emily. “Derek?” she asked, raising her voice slightly. Penelope looked up from where she was smoothing hair off of Spence’s forehead, her expression hopeful.

“He was in surgery when we left,” JJ answered, dropping her keys and bag onto her desk and moving to Penelope’s bed to get a better look at her friend. She didn’t like the weirdly immobile way he was sprawled. His skin was pale and clammy, hair matted by sweat and sticking to his forehead.

“Is he drunk?” Aaron asked, making JJ jump. She hadn’t realized he’d followed her to the bed. He pushed past, almost roughly in his haste, pressing his hand against Spencer’s throat.

Emily squirmed, clearly unwilling to commit to an answer. “We don’t know. He seemed way too… out of it. We’re waiting for him to wake up.”

Aaron looked _pissed_. JJ waited for the inevitable, _‘you should have told me!’_ that she knew was coming. “You should have taken him to the hospital!” he said, his voice as close to angry as it could be without actually raising it, “You have no idea what he might have been given, or what could have happened to him.” There was a long silence, and his eyes widened. She could actually see the procession of _what ifs_ passing through his mind. They’d been running through hers all night. “Oh fuck, what the fuck happened to him?”

“If the college found out…” Penelope said softly, her voice wavering. “It wouldn’t have looked good.”

“We’re keeping an eye on him, Aaron,” Emily cut in. “If he had gotten worse, we would have called someone.”

JJ listened to them bicker, staring at Spencer for a solid minute, half zoned out, until she registered what her eyes were seeing. “Guys,” she called softly, cutting into the fight. She waited a moment, watching his eyelids carefully, and then tried again. “Guys!” They stopped. JJ disregarded them now she had their attention, shuffling forward on her butt to get closer to his head. She leaned down, taking his hand in hers and smiling warmly. “Hey sleepyhead, look who’s awake.”

Spencer blinked dazedly at her and stirred under the blankets, trying unsuccessfully to prop himself up on one arm to look about the room. His tongue darted out, wetting his lips, face scrunched up against the light in the room.

Emily tapped her on the arm, passing her a bottle of water. “Dim the lights,” JJ murmured to her. “How are you feeling?” she asked him, uncapping the bottle and holding it out.

He tried to reach for it with a hand that tremored uncontrollably and undershot. Taking pity on him, she held the bottle to his lips and carefully let him sip at the water. “I’ve felt better,” he croaked finally, turning his head away from the bottle. “What happened?” Even as he regained coherency, his pupils only sluggishly reacted to the light. Yep. She was definitely getting a drug kit.

“We were hoping you could tell us that,” Penelope said. “You gave us a goddamn heart attack, kiddo.”

Spencer looked confused, hazel eyes darting from one person to the next. “I… I don’t understand. Tell you what? Where’s everyone else?”

Aaron’s voice was grim, “What happened? Did you take something?” Emily’s gaze darkened and she looked away, trying to hide her expression from both of them. Spencer’s eyes widened, horrified, and he sat bolt upright. JJ could see his breath hitching with panic, could hear the slight wheeze in his throat. He was on the verge of an anxiety attack, terrified by something.

“This isn’t possible,” he stammered, panting with fear. Both Penelope and Emily were trying to coax him down, telling him to sit and just breathe, but he was ignoring them, his eyes locked on Aaron. “I can’t remember, Aaron. I can’t remember past this afternoon. I have _no_ idea what happened to me.”


	8. Fallout

The week after the night of the party was a lonely one. Penelope spent any time she wasn’t in class at the hospital, doing her homework there and sweet-talking the nurses until they turned a blind eye to her presence after hours. Which was good, what with Derek’s mom and sisters stuck in Chicago, making her and JJ his only visitors.

“How is everyone?” Derek asked her on the third day, finally shaking off the grogginess from the after-surgery antibiotics. His leg was a heavily bandaged lump under the soft hospital blankets, and he was already restless in the white-washed room. “Aaron and Dave sort things?”

Penelope shifted uncomfortably in the hard-backed chair. “I haven’t really seen our dynamic duo. I’m sure they’re fine.”

Derek eyed her as he tapped the top of his jello with his spoon. “Emily and Spencer? I haven’t seen them yet.”

She studied her nails, noting several chips in the glitter polish. “Oh, you know. They’re them. Spencer is doing his smart thing, Emily is doing her…. Emily thing.”

He put the jello down, crossing his arms sternly. “Penelope, you’re my beautiful Babygirl and I love you, but you’re a godawful liar.”

She burst into tears, the stresses of the last week catching up with her. “I know, I know,” she wailed, trying desperately to daub at her eyes without smearing make-up all over her face. “But you’re still recovering and it’s been _awful_.”

He leaned over, expression soft, and pulled her hand away from her face, using his other hand to gently wipe the tears from her cheek. “You know, I’m not going anywhere, Pen. You can talk to me.”

So, she told him.

 

* * *

 

JJ knocked sharply on Spence’s door, slipping it open and sidling in without waiting for an answer. Spencer was sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by notebooks filled with small, cramped handwriting.

“Did you take the test?” she asked in lieu of a greeting, stepping over the books and sitting next to him. “You didn’t answer my texts.”

Spencer shivered slightly next to her, wrapping his thick blue dressing gown tighter around himself. She could see the bottoms of his oddly-socked feet poking out from the bottom of the gown; blue anchors on one, green bananas on the other. “I lost my cell that night. Haven’t gotten around to getting another one yet.”

She sensed his reluctance to talk about that night and didn’t press him, despite her burning need to _know_. “You can’t hide in here forever, Spence. Professor Blake said you haven’t been to class this week, she’s worried. And you haven’t even been to see Derek yet.”

He flicked through a couple of pages in his notepad, not really reading the words as they flashed past his vision. “I know.” He stopped and looked up at her, looking miserable. “Have you ever suddenly realized that the world isn’t as safe as you thought it was?”

It was her time to shiver, thinking back to that night and what could have happened if Spencer hadn’t found his way to Dave. She stood, knees cracking, her eyes falling on a cleared spot on the desk and the tattered wrapping of the kit she’d brought him. She scanned the coloured tabs visible, the rest half wrapped in the packaging. From here the lines were discernible, a row of neat double lines.

And a single one that stood out accusingly below a yellow tab. Her heart sunk.

“All the time, Spence. All the time.”

 

* * *

 

The healing scabs on his hands were harsh reminders of that night. He lay in bed at night and studied them thinking, _every moment I have these is a moment I don’t have you._ He wasn’t entirely sure if the ‘you’ in that thought was referring to Haley, or Dave.

His room was completely silent, Dave’s bed and clothes untouched. Aaron’s anger had filtered away over the past few days, replaced instead with a numb sort of dread.

Haley hadn’t spoken to him, and he wasn’t really sure if he cared.

Dave hadn’t come home, and that terrified him.

**Dave** : **Where are you? Just let me know that you’re okay. Or anyone.**

Sean had fallen over once when they were little and cried at the graze on his knee. Aaron had cried too when he’d seen it, miserable that he’d failed his brother like that and allowed him to get hurt. Aaron’s grandma had pulled them both aside and patched Sean up, stopping his tears with a kiss and a cookie.

“You’re going to spend a lot of time crying if you take on other people’s hurts,” she had told Aaron sternly. “You can’t carry all this guilt around forever, it’ll smother you.”

Now, he lay in his room alone, door closed against the world and suffocating under the weight of all his recent failures, and wondered if she might be right.

 

* * *

 

It was alright during the day. Penelope was there and she was the brightest thing in his life at this time. Even the nurses, a steady stream of smiling faces, cheered him up. It wasn’t like he was losing anything this time. A few more months of painkillers and crutches and then that damn cane again. In the end, he was no better and no worse off from this. Not like the first time, when the pain in his knee had symbolised the loss of everything he’d dreamed of. In some ways, reinjuring his knee only served to make it easier. At least this time there was no hope it’d heal enough for him to play again.

It was easy enough to be optimistic during the day. At night, Derek lay awake in the hospital that was never quite as quiet as you’d think it would be and felt completely disconnected from his life. It was hard to keep time in a hospital bed; suddenly his days were a steady routine of blood pressure tests, pills and meals served precisely on the dot. The strict schedule had a way of making time slip past effortlessly.

Spencer finally visited and he was twitchy, nervous, refusing to drink any of Derek’s apple juice but nibbling at the red jello after spending an inordinate amount of time inspecting the seal. Derek watched him carefully unseal the jello, shredding the foil into little pieces before picking at the treat. “Green tastes better,” he told his friend, with the confidence of someone who had spent the last week carefully rating the different flavoured jellos on their merits.

“I prefer blue,” Spencer murmured, and didn’t quite meet his eyes. Emily was there and she was watching Spencer with eyes that were both sad and angry, and to make her stop _looking_ like that, Derek asked her to help him with his homework.

He wasn’t as surprised as he should have been when she did.

 

* * *

 

Emily was starting to feel like she’d fallen into some bizarre alternate reality where she was the well-adjusted one and everyone around her was falling apart. Except maybe JJ, but JJ had always been a rock. Or, more accurately, some sort of water-reed that moved easily with the rushing water around her but always held her ground.

Her previous coping mechanisms didn’t really appeal too much to her at the moment, with that single line and Spencer’s newfound terror of leaving his room lingering in her mind, so instead of getting drunk to forget, she rang her mother. Her mom was astonished that she’d called, distracted by a conversation in the distance. Emily knew she’d called at a bad time but was pleasantly surprised when her mom told her that the voices could wait until she was finished talking to her daughter.

“How is college?” her mother asked politely, and it occurred to Emily that they talked like strangers, and the fault didn’t entirely rest upon the elder Prentiss’ shoulders. So, she didn’t tell her about drugged drinks or twisted knees, didn’t mention her fears or hopes. Instead they talked about the weather and inane things, and before Emily said goodbye and hung up she remembered to ask one last thing.

“Did you ever teach me a nursery rhyme when I was little?” she asked, tentative. “About apples?”

“Oh gosh no,” her mother exclaimed. “It was probably the cook. She had all sorts of funny ideas like that.”

Emily hung up and told herself she wasn’t disappointed. Instead, she bought Chinese for two and, when Aaron didn’t answer his door, she left the food tucked against it, because that seemed like something a friend should do. She dragged Spencer out of his room and took him to see Derek, and they both pretended that they didn’t see the way Spencer kept glancing nervously over his shoulder.

She kept it together because one of them had to.

 

* * *

 

Dave opened the door and told himself that it was ridiculous to be avoiding a room. When he walked in and found Aaron sitting at his desk in clothes that smelled like he hadn’t changed in a week, unshaven and with bags under his eyes to rival Dave’s own, he was reminded that it wasn’t really a room he was avoiding.

His ribs were bruised to hell, but probably not broken. His nose was busted to hell and broken for sure. He looked like shit and he knew it, but it was some small comfort to know that Aaron had suffered too. His friend didn’t look angry anymore, just tired and sad, and for once in his life Dave had no idea what to say. He wanted to tell Aaron how sorry he was, how much he’d missed his company, how much their friendship had come to mean to him.

He wanted to tell him that the last few months had been the happiest of his life. Instead, he opened his mouth and what came out was a defiant, “She came onto me.”

“I know.”

“I wouldn’t have done anything.”

“Yeah.”

“I wouldn’t hurt you like that.”

Silence. And then, “That doesn’t make it any better.”

Dave was frozen, teetering on the edge of ruining everything. He didn’t know how to do this, how to stop this from spiralling even further out of control. “Do you want me to go?”

Startled dark eyes met his, uncertain. “You just got back.”

“I can request a transfer, a different room. If you don’t want me here anymore?”

Aaron span the chair, turning his back on him and talking instead to the wall. “I don’t know. Do as you please.”

Dave was desperate now, a drowning man reaching for a last chance. “Aaron, please. I can fix this.”

“Nothing can fix this.”

 

* * *

 

Spencer found his cell on his doorstep on top of his neatly folded jacket. He didn’t sleep much anymore, so when it buzzed later that night he immediately reached for it.

**T. ???** : **We need to talk. Meet out front of dorms.**

He went. He needed to know.


	9. Logical Fallacies

“Eat your goddamn jello, Derek,” JJ said absently, tracing her pen down the page. “This says that you will encounter trouble in the form of unwanted knowledge.”

Derek spooned jello into his mouth obediently. “So I should avoid Spencer for the week then?”

JJ snorted. “Oh yes, and when Spence asks why you won’t let him visit you, we tell him your horoscope told you he was trouble?”

“Oh, a self-fulfilling horoscope,” Penelope exclaimed, almost bouncing with excitement. “You avoid Spencer because he’s a bastion of unwanted knowledge; he finds out why, you get lectured by Mr. Odd Socks himself on the logical fallacy that are horoscopes. Do me next, Jayge.”

“You will find answers from a dark and handsome Scorpio,” JJ read out, scrunching up her nose. “Handsome, huh? Well, when he’s done giving you answers, can you give him my number?”

Derek choked on his jello, spitting blue over the white covers. “Isn’t Aaron a Scorpio?”

“Oh man,” JJ groaned. “Well, on second thought, don’t give him my number. The last thing I need is a jealous Mrs. Hotchner on my doorstep asking awkward questions.”

“I thought you got along well with Haley?” Penelope asked her, snatching the magazine out of JJ’s hands and flipping through to the crossword.

“I do,” JJ replied, wiping blue jello off her jeans. “It’s Dave I’m worried about. He seems the jealous type.”

Penelope’s phone hummed. “Oh look, speak of the handsome devil,” she said, glancing at the screen.

“Aaron?” Derek asked.

“No, Spencer. He’s supposed to be meeting us here. Guess he got caught up.”

“Spencer’s handsome?” Derek raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize tall and squeaky was your thing, Babygirl.”

“Calm down, Romeo,” JJ teased. “You know Pen only has eyes for you. When is Spence getting here? He has my lecture notes.”

Penelope wasn’t listening anymore, staring at the screen with her lips turned downwards in confusion. “He’s not coming.”

“What? Why not?” Derek said, leaning forward and trying to peer at her phone. “You didn’t tell him about the horoscope already, did you?”

**Sir Spence-a-lot** : **Going home for a bit to see Mom. Caught the plane last night to Vegas. Tell Morgan I’m sorry.**

“He flew to Vegas last night,” she explained, showing them the phone. Her spidey senses were tingling; something was wrong. “Is something wrong with his mom? He didn’t say anything…”

“Huh. Strange. I’m sure everything is fine, he’ll tell us more when he gets back,” Derek said, handing the phone back.

“I don’t like it,” JJ murmured. “It doesn’t look right… since when has he called you Morgan?”

Penelope was already pulling her laptop out, typing furiously. “Already on it guys. Pinging his phone.”

“Woah, you can’t stalk the poor kid,” Derek exclaimed. “Pen, give him some space. He probably just needs to see his mom; he’s had a tough week.”

“He is out of my sight, Derek,” Penelope replied distractedly. “He is out of my sight and I don’t like it when my family is out of my sight.”

Derek didn’t look convinced, until JJ leaned over and tapped at the phone, face grim. “He didn’t sign his text. Something is wrong.”

 

* * *

 

The tapping on his door was so soft he almost missed it. “Yes?” Dave called, still unsure if he’d heard anything. The door slipped open, Haley edging in and looking green with nerves. He stood bolt upright, knocking his chair back in the process. This was the last fucking thing he needed, for Aaron to come back from class and find him alone in their room with _Haley_. “What are you doing here? _Fuck off_.”

“I… I came to apologise,” she stuttered, nervously tugging at her sleeve. “My god, Dave, I was so stupid and cruel and I feel sick just thinking about how I acted.”

Dave stared at her, hearing the last thing he ever expected to hear from Haley. He didn’t even know she knew the meaning of the word. “Why are you telling me this? Why aren’t you telling Aaron?” His dislike of her was palpable, despite how uncomfortable she clearly was.

Somehow, he didn’t feel at all sympathetic.

“I wanted to see Aaron, I just… I couldn’t. I can’t. I don’t…” she stopped, suddenly bursting into tears. Dave watched in horror as she sobbed messily, tears and snot mixing together on her face. If there was one thing he’d learnt about women, it was that they couldn’t fake crying ugly. If they were fake crying, they did it prettily. If they were genuine, it was messy.

This was messy.

He stepped forward, keeping an arm’s length of space between them, and handed her a battered box of tissues.

“Dave, please, I need your help. You know Aaron better than anyone, even me,” she begged through her tears. He was incredulous, rocking back on his heels and biting back a savage laugh.

“Why on earth do you think I’m going to help you clean up your mess?” he asked. “He’s barely talking to me as it is. I’m not going to champion your cause.” Haley hated him. She hated everything about him. How could she think that he would help her?

“I’m pregnant,” she said suddenly, sitting down heavily on Dave’s bed and staring at the floor.

Well, shit.

“I don’t want to know this,” he said, stalking over to the door and grabbing the handle. “Why are you telling me this, I don’t want to know. I never wanted to know any of your dirty laundry, and yet, here we are. Up shit creek and you just ate the fucking paddle.”

“Dave, wait,” she begged, grabbing his sleeve. “What do I do?”

“How should I know?” he shouted, turning on her. “You ruined my friendship with my best friend, and now you want my help with hurting him more? You broke his heart! And Derek, look what happened to him!”

“It’s his,” she whispered. “I know it’s Aaron’s. I never cheated. Almost, almost, but I changed my mind.”

“You want a goddamn medal?” he said, clenching his fist behind his back to steady himself. “Congratulations, you managed to be a decent human being.”

“I don’t deserve anything, let alone Aaron,” she replied. “I hate you, Dave. You’re immature, reckless, irresponsible, and I still think you’re going to drag Aaron down with you.” If this was her way of talking him into helping her, it was an odd one. “But,” she continued, “you mean a lot to him. Probably more than I do. Definitely more at the moment. If anyone can help him through this, it’s you.”

The silence stretched out into what felt like eternity. Haley watched him with a face that was still red and streaked with tears. “I won’t do this for you,” he said finally.

She closed her eyes, relief softening her face. “But you will do it for Aaron. Dave, thank you.” She paused, hesitating. “I didn’t lie to you, I never slept with Sommets.”

Dave straightened. “Sommets? Ryan Sommets? That’s who you almost cheated on Aaron with?” He was sceptical, _furious_. “A fucking drug dealer?”

She looked angry now, an expression he was much more familiar with seeing on her face. “He’s not a drug dealer, he’s a student here. I met him in the library, he was… charming.”

“He was expelled for dealing drugs, months ago. Me and Aaron were there, Haley.”

She was already shaking her head. “Impossible. I saw him two weeks ago, on campus.”

Dave frowned, contemplating what could possibly bring Sommets back to campus, but the handle rattled in his hand as someone opened it on the other side. He saw Haley go grey.

Aaron was home.

 

* * *

 

Emily walked quickly up the path, checking her phone for what felt like the hundredth time.

**Einstein** : **Going home for a bit to see Mom. Caught the plane last night to Vegas. Tell Morgan I’m sorry.**

**To: Einstein:** **Is something wrong with your mom? When are you home?**

And then, nothing. Radio silence. It wasn’t like him. She shoved her phone back into her pocket, biting at her nails nervously. Something was going on here.

There was a noise behind her. She wrapped her fingers around her keys and spun around, hearing feet thumping heavily up the path behind her. The woman from the library jogged up, stopping when she saw the keys gripped in Emily’s palm. She was red-faced, sweaty, nervous.

“The hell do you want?” Emily said, in no mood to be courteous.

The other woman, Taylor, twisted a lock of hair around her finger, shifting from foot to foot. “You’re Emily Prentiss, right? Spencer’s friend? We met, that one time.”

“What’s it to you?” she growled back, scowling furiously at the other woman. “What do you want with Spencer?”

“Nothing!” Taylor said, her mouth twisting slightly. Emily watched her face carefully, seeing a flash of guilt. _Guilt._ The cold anger came back, building in the base of her skull and slowly spreading outwards. “Nothing, I swear, it’s just… I fucked up.” Emily gripped the keys tighter, trying to judge just where exactly they would cause the most damage if inserted. “Please, Emily, let me explain. I regret everything that happened. I’m trying to make amends.”

Emily folded her arms, glaring. “You have two minutes to get to the fucking point.”

“I was paid to befriend Spencer,” Taylor said. Emily felt the cold anger turn to white hot fury; knew that her face had darkened terribly by the way the other woman backed up, nervousness replaced by raw fear. “I was paid so fucking much, but he’s a sweet kid. He’s really sweet, I really do like him—Emily, _wait_. Someone wanted to settle a score with him, to scare him. But I’ve talked to him now, actually spent time with him. There’s no way he ever did anything to deserve what they wanted me to do.”

Emily swallowed thickly, seconds from slapping the bitch across the face. “And what exactly did they want you to do?” If she said what Emily thought she was going say, this was going to end in tears for one of them.

And it wasn’t going to be hers.

Taylor shuffled again, her face reddening. “His… drink. At the party. I was supposed to dope him and leave him somewhere to wake up. He wouldn’t remember anything, he’d just think that maybe something… but I lost him. I lost him, anything could have actually happened.”

There it was.

The sound of her assbone hitting the cement was the best thing Emily had heard all week. The sound of Emily’s fist connecting with her cheekbone was the second best. In her defence, Taylor didn’t cry or whine or sob. She just swallowed hard, pressed her hand against her rapidly swelling cheek, and waited for Emily to calm down. Which wasn’t quite yet. “You drugged him, you stupid bitch. You drugged him for money and left him stoned and alone in the middle of a crowd of strangers! I should call the fucking police on you, right now!”

“You should, I won’t stop you,” Taylor replied, eyes watering with pain. “I deserve it. I told Spencer the same last night when I came clean to him. He was going to talk to you about it but… by hurting him, I hurt you. You’re his friend. I had to come to you as well.”

Emily stared at her. “Why? Why would you do it?”

Momentary hesitation, and that guilt again. “It was a lot of money. Serious cash. I have bills, my student loans, rent. I was wrong, I fucked up. I’ll do anything to make it up to you guys, to Spencer.”

“Stay away from us,” Emily told her, voice cold. “Just stay the hell away from us.” She turned and stormed away, feeling sick. Who would pay someone to scare Spencer? Spencer didn’t have enemies—he didn’t _make_ enemies. Suddenly, it hit her and she stopped. “Wait, Taylor!” she called, turning and jogging back after the despondent woman. “You saw Spencer last night? When?”

“Err, late, after one. We went to a diner, talked, then I dropped him back at the dorms. Why?”

Spencer was with Taylor last night.

So why did he say he was on a plane?


	10. Point Blank

“Hello, Reid,” Sommets said with a sly smile, gesturing to the table in front of him. Spencer stood awkwardly by the two guys who had led him there, nervously clenching his fist in his pocket. “Do you play?”

Spencer glanced at the tables, the cards and chips laying there. “I grew up in Vegas. I could play poker before I could form consonant blends.”

Sommets dragged another chair over and placed it opposite him. As he stretched for the chair, Spencer’s blood turned to ice, the movement making the other man’s jacket bulge over the shape of a gun in his waistband. “Good. Well then, we’re going to play. And talk. And when we’re done, you’re going to agree to work for me.”

Spencer sat, adopting his best blank expression. He wasn’t going to let Sommets see how scared he really was. It occurred to him that he could die here.

No one knew where he was.

He swallowed and said, “Am I? What makes you think I won’t just walk out of here?”

The man leaned forward, tapping his fingers three times _tap tap tap_ on the wood of the table. “Because I know the odds. Now, let’s see how good you really are, genius.”

 

* * *

 

“Come on, Babygirl, talk to me,” Derek’s voice crackled over the phone. Penelope knew that JJ would be sitting on his bed, her pretty face lined with worry as she listened to them over the line. “Have you found him yet?”

Penelope made an annoyed noise, typing as fast as she could, her eyes flickering over the screen. Emily leaned over her shoulder, her mobile on speaker on the desk in front of them. “I’m doing the best I can, Derek. He’s removed the battery.”

“Or maybe someone did it for him,” Dave remarked grimly, peering around Penelope from his place on her bed. “We should call the cops.”

“We don’t even know if anything has happened to him,” said a soft voice from the other side of the room. Penelope’s hands paused on the keyboard as she peeked over at the wall. Aaron was against the far wall, looking… odd. She could see Dave studiously avoiding looking at his friend, and Emily kept glancing over at him, lips pursed in a concerned manner. He looked grey, worn. She couldn’t place the odd glazed look in his eyes, but it was the look of a man in the middle of having his world rocked on its axis. Normally Penelope would have seen that look and immediately pounced, bundled him in a blanket and forced something sweet and loaded with empty calories down his throat. But they couldn’t afford the distraction at this point.

Dave’s voice was tight with tension. “Oh yes, because both Emily and Penelope would have called us separately panicking about the kid if there was nothing wrong.”

“Taylor said she dropped him off at one last night,” Emily cut in. “How do we know he even made it back to the dorm?”

“He only messaged you an hour ago, Pen. Why would he wait twelve hours to contact us, or be forced to contact us, if he got nabbed last night?” Derek sounded frustrated. Penelope couldn’t imagine how maddening it must be to be stuck in a hospital bed, useless.

She had an idea, but oh god, it was so illegal. _Anything for your family_ , _Penelope. That’s always been the rule._ It wasn’t like she’d never broken the law before. “I can hack into the security feed,” she offered, biting at her lip. “I mean, I think I can. It should be accessible if it’s wirelessly fed to its servers. If we can find him on the security feed, we’ll know where he went. And… there’s city surveillance. The subway. Traffic cameras.”

“That could get you expelled,” Aaron pointed out, voice monotonous. “Or arrested. That _will_ get you arrested.”

“He’d do for me,” Penelope replied sharply. Emily’s hand met hers, damp with sweat. Penelope gripped it tightly, seeking comfort in the small gesture.

“It’s your choice,” JJ’s voice issued from the cell, quiet and firm.

“It’s no choice at all,” she answered, taking her hand back and typing frantically. _Knock knock,_ she thought grimly. _The Black Queen’s back._ “Ok, I’ve got the feed. We can just see the dorm, there…” She squinted. The image was grainy. They could barely see the darkened shadow of the doorway.

“Can you speed it up?” Emily asked. Penelope nodded, tapping out the command. The shadows flickered oddly on the screen; a few students stumbled into the dorm. “Pause it, there!” Penelope hit the button, slowing the motion on the screen. They watched with bated breath as a darkened Spencer walked slowly up the path, head bowed, bag slung over his shoulder. Alone.

“He got home,” Dave pointed out. “He’s home, he’s safe, so where the fuck is he now?”

Penelope typed in the fast-forward command, frowning. “Not on a goddamn plane, that’s for sure.”

“He was coming to see me at noon,” Derek said. “So he would have had to leave, what, at ten? Eleven? Try checking the feed then.” She did so, carefully scanning the increasing number of students leaving the dorms for their friend.

“There,” Emily said, pointing at the screen. The time on the feed read 10.37a.m. as he stepped out of the dorm, half jogging down the path and out of sight. The feed was too fuzzy to make out details, but Penelope fancied that he looked tired. Her heart ached. He was getting _hugged_ when they found him. “Can you find him on another feed?”

“Already on it, sugar,” Penelope said, searching for secured feeds from the campus. “If he’s heading for the subway, he has to leave through the north gate and… there he is. I’m going to see if I can get the feed from the subway station…”

They looked up at the screen as the subway flashed up onto it. “You’re a frightening woman, Pen,” Emily said finally. Everyone else stared at her.

“No one hides from me,” Penelope replied smugly. “And here he is again, behind that large man in the trilby.” Spencer was slumped against the wall, rifling through his leather messenger bag. Dave made an irritated noise as people moved between the camera and the view of their friend. When the people cleared, Spencer was no longer alone. “Who is that?” Penelope said, voice sharp and anxiety racketing up. “He’s not facing us; I can’t see his face.”

“There’s two of them,” Emily pointed out. “There’s another one watching them.” Spencer’s body language had turned defensive, standing straight upright, bag clutched in front of him like a shield.

The man in front of Spencer looked at his companion. Penelope froze the screen as he turned, catching the profile of his face. “I know him,” Aaron said softly, all of them turning to him. “That’s the goon who was with Sommets the day of the fight.”

“Oh boy,” Dave muttered. Aaron stepped away from the wall, his face coldly intense, all of the vacant misery vanishing. They watched as Spencer stiffly followed the two men out of the subway, one of their hands on his shoulder guiding him. He didn’t look back.

Penelope was already tabbing out, typing in the college’s database. “Sommets’ address coming up five minutes ago.” She expanded his file, highlighting his home address.

Aaron was already striding to the door. “Dave and I will go check it out. You girls wait here in case he comes home.” His face was blank but his fists were clenched, spoiling for a fight. Dave stood and hesitantly moved after him. Emily stiffened next to Penelope, furious at being left behind. “Keep looking Sommets up,” he instructed them. “See if there’s anything we missed, anywhere else he might have taken Spencer.”

The two girls watched the guys leave, listening to Derek rage on the other side of the phone. “This is bullshit; I should be going with them!”

“What are you going to do, hit Sommets with your crutches? Ram him in the ankles with your wheelchair?” JJ snapped. They began to bicker, loudly. Penelope heard a beeping noise from her computer. She turned back with a frown, ignoring Emily as she joined in on the arguing.

Oh god. This was not good.

“Because I’m a woman, they think I can’t help them,” Emily ranted.

“Emily,” Penelope whispered, eyes locked on the screen. Emily didn’t reply, still snapping at Derek. “Emily.”

Emily stopped and turned to her with a quizzical expression. “What’s going on?” Derek asked in the lull that followed as Penelope tried to talk around a threat constricted with the fear of the inevitable.

The fear vanished with the sudden realization that she needed to _act_. “Em, listen carefully to me,” Penelope instructed, inputting commands as quickly as she could. Shutting windows down; camera feeds, Sommets’ file; clearing as much as she could. “Do exactly what I say. If Aaron and Dave don’t find Spencer, you need to take my phone and get the number labelled ‘Shane Wyeth’ out of it. You need to call him and tell him that I’ll do what we discussed if he helps you track where Spencer’s gone.”

“Penelope, Babygirl, who is Shane? What are you doing?” Derek asked. Penelope could hear JJ’s voice in the background, loudly demanding an explanation.

“Where are you going?” Emily asked, already scrolling down Penelope’s contact list and searching for the listed name.

“Sorry Derek, I’m going to have to hang up on you,” Penelope apologised. “I’m taking Emily’s phone.” She cut off Derek’s exclamation mid-stream, exiting the call and slipping the cell into her pocket.

“Pen?” Emily asked, and Penelope could hear fear and worry in the normally brusque woman’s voice. She watched as the blinking window that showed someone back-hacking her disappeared as the computer powered down. She was so fucking busted.

“Don’t worry,” she comforted Emily, who looked like she was having a panic attack as the realization of what was happening hit her. “The FBI doesn’t arrest people like me. They hire them. Now take my phone and _run_.”

Emily hesitated.

Then she bolted, leaving the door standing open as the thud of her feet down the hall faded. Penelope picked up her lucky pebble and slipped it into her pocket, settling down to wait for them to come pick her up.

 

* * *

 

“Emily, you do not go there alone. Stay where you are. I’ll come get you, and we’ll go together.” Derek twisted his sheets in his fists, watching tensely as JJ paced, holding the phone to her ear. “I said stay where—don’t hang up on me! Fuck!” She lowered her phone and tapped furiously at it, waiting for the line to connect. “She hung up on me!”

“What the hell is going on?” Derek exclaimed, hobbling to his feet, using the back of the chair to hold him upright as he swayed. JJ hurried over, trying to push him back onto the bed. “Aaron and Dave have taken off to god knows where, Penelope is what? Arrested? Detained? God knows! Where is Emily going? And we’re stuck here!”

“Derek, sit down, you’re going to hurt your knee more,” JJ pressured him, pausing and shifting uncomfortably. “Emily called that guy, the one Pen told him to. He wants to meet her… I’m going. I have to go.”

Derek used the chair to lever himself past her, reaching for his crutches. “Fine. Fine. Let’s go.”

JJ stared at him with wide blue eyes. “You can’t leave. You’re hooked up to an IV. You just had surgery. You can barely even walk.”

Derek didn’t even hesitate before he tugged the IV out, ignoring the blood that oozed out of the wound. “Well then, you’re going to have to help me sneak out, aren’t you? Because you’re not leaving here without me, JJ.”

 

* * *

 

“Let me go in alone, he only agreed to see me,” Emily argued, turning her body so she could look at Derek splayed in the backseat as well as JJ in the driver’s side. “You’ll be right out here. I’ll keep Pen’s phone on me and speed dial you if something goes wrong.”

Derek growled angrily, but JJ shushed him. “She has a point. If we go in there with him, he’ll clam up. We need him talking.”

“We don’t even know him,” Derek snapped. “How do you know he can help?”

“Penelope trusts him. So we should trust him,” JJ said, still calm.

Emily was shaking her head. “I don’t think Penelope does trust him. She didn’t look… happy.” That was an understatement. Penelope had looked flat out terrified by the idea of him.

“You’re not exactly helping your case,” JJ muttered.

“Take JJ then,” Derek said finally, a slight whine to his voice. “God Emily, the last thing we need is you going missing as well.”

“Alright,” she conceded. Surely this Shane guy wouldn’t care about another woman being there. Otherwise Derek was going to demand that he be allowed to hobble in there with them, leg be damned. JJ was silent as she unbuckled her seatbelt and followed Emily to the door of the dingy internet café that Wyeth had picked to meet up at. She could feel Derek’s eyes tracking them to the door, the back of her neck itching uncomfortably.

The door tingled as they entered, eyes lifting from screens to watch them walk in. “What’s this guy look like?” JJ asked quietly, smiling at an edgy looking teenager sitting at a PC.

“I don’t know. All I’ve got is his voice,” Emily replied, eyes flickering from one person to another, looking for someone who matched the voice she’d spoken to. Fidgety, paranoid. Angry. Not exactly someone who seemed like he’d mesh well with the upbeat Penelope. She was starting to suspect there was more about the woman than any of them had ever suspected.

“I thought I said, _alone_ ,” a smooth voice said from beside them. JJ jumped, head swivelling to face the man standing in a doorway to her side. “Not that I mind the company of two beautiful ladies such as yourselves.”

“Shane Wyeth?” Emily asked, moving to place herself between JJ and the man Penelope had sent them to see. He merely smirked, motioning for them to follow him as he disappeared back into the gloom of the other room. They carefully shadowed him into a room with a bank of monitors on one wall. Emily narrowed her eyes, carefully surveying the screens. One of them showed the image from the subway of Spencer and the men, another was Sommets’ rap sheet. Emily glared at his mug-shot, hating everything about the guy.

Wyeth sat in front of the bank of monitors, tapping at the keys. Panels of information flashed up, not all of it on Sommets. “Emily Prentiss. Twenty-one, troubled. Average marks, below-average attitude. Looking for the ickle Spencer Reid. Sixteen, some kind of freaky brainiac with a fucking basket-case mother. And Jennifer Jareau. Straight A student, sporty, apple of her family’s eye. Ooh, sorry about your sister, love. Want to know about your mate Hotchner’s daddy? Nasty temper on that one.” Emily felt JJ shudder next to her, heard the tight intake of breath, but she didn’t respond to the bait.

JJ had a sister? Spencer’s mom was crazy? She wasn’t touching that last bit.

“Impressive. But not what we’re here for,” Emily said, keeping her voice controlled. Wyeth smirked, minimizing the information on them and pulling up Sommets’ file again.

“I knew Pen would come crawling back to me,” he said with a self-satisfied grin. “Oh, I know she sent you two to do her dirty work, but she never could resist me. I’m sure she’s just outside, desperately fighting the urge to walk in here.”

“What the hell do you have on her?” JJ growled, her mouth twisting in distaste.

“Oh, we go way back. Which is why I kindly agreed to help you find your lost pup. You sure he hasn’t just gone mental like his mother and is aimlessly wandering the streets somewhere?”

Emily span on her heel. “Right, we’re leaving. You’re of no use to us. We’ll find him ourselves.”

Wyeth waited until they were at the door before calling after them. “His parents own a shop. Owned a shop. It’s empty now, closed when his father died months ago. Just before you, Prentiss, and your little genius friend got him expelled. Lovely place-empty, quiet, isolated. Not many people around. Want the address?”

The girls stopped, glancing at each other before reluctantly facing him. “How do you know about him getting expelled?” Emily asked. “I seriously doubt mine or Spencer’s involvement was in his file, since we were both gone before security got there.”

Wyeth spun his chair around a few times, tilting his head back and laughing as he swivelled. “Oh that took no hacking at all. Sommets is seriously pissed at you, my dear. He doesn’t shut up about you or your little friend. Guy wants revenge like a pig wants shit.”

The two girls stared at him. “You know Sommets?” JJ asked. “Are you involved in this?”

“Me? Oh hardly.” Wyeth laughed coldly. “Not with your friend going missing, anyway. Sommets contacted me; he’s the reason I’m here.” He paused, leaning forward. “He’s the reason I found my Penelope. I had no idea where she was before he contacted me, asking for help digging up dirt on your freaky little group of delinquents.”

“Why are you telling us this?” Emily asked him, suspicious.

Wyeth shrugged. “I don’t need him anymore. I have what I want. I have my girlfriend back. I don’t owe him my silence. Which is why I’m perfectly content to tell you that Sommets has been happily trying to get back at you guys for months. Hotchy’s girlfriend? Yeah, he totally fucked her. Paid some guy to rough up the black idiot during one of his games. Getting you and the kid expelled for drugs, that was on his list. Top of it actually. I have no idea what changed his mind.” He scribbled out an address on a slip of paper, thrust it at them with a strange expression. “I’m not a good guy, not at all. But kidnapping, that’s over my head. Here, just like I promised. Good luck finding the twerp.”

JJ snatched the paper, shaking as she did so, before storming to the exit without a word. Emily’s head swirled with what they’d just heard. Sommets was fucking insane. The last nightmarish months were his doing? How had none of them noticed?

How was she going to tell the others?

She paused by the door, not even bothering to face Wyeth. “I want to thank you for your help.” She heard him laugh, begin to say something, but she cut him off. “But I want you to know, as long as I’m alive, you’ll never go near Penelope Garcia again, Shane. That’s my promise to you.”

 

* * *

 

They found him.

Why were things never _simple?_

She stared at him. “Spence, what’s going on?”

He stood straight-backed and blanked faced, staring coldly at her. “Nothing is happening. This is my choice. I’m staying here, you all need to leave.” She could see a shadow of the man he was becoming in his eyes, dark and unfathomable.

Aaron was yelling, screaming at Sommets, out of control. She could hear Derek losing it as well. Dave was still beside her, Sommets was snarling. It all moved far too quickly after that, and it still didn’t make any fucking sense.

Aaron lunged past her, Dave seconds behind.

She saw Dave fall.

She saw his head smack into the table. She saw that he didn’t get up.

The next few seconds were a blur of action. There was shouting, furious shouting that she could barely understand over the thumping of her own heart. Throughout it all, she couldn’t move and hazel eyes bored into hers.

When the sound of the gunshot echoed throughout the room, she felt the impact of it into her chest, sure for a moment she actually _had_ , feeling herself fall as she screamed in unimaginable pain. The pain faded, the impact illusionary, and she wasn’t the one who’d dropped. Later she would have no recollection of crossing the room or kneeling beside him.

His blood was everywhere, and she didn’t know how to breathe without him.


	11. Final Choices

There was never a choice, not for him.

“I’m just waiting for you to show your hand,” he said softly to Sommets, placing the cards flat on the table. He’d won every game so far, a fact which seemed to delight his captors.

A bag thudded onto the table in front of him. “Class A narcotics. I’m given to believe you’re a smart kid; what would happen to someone if this was found on their person?” Spencer stared him down, silent. Sommets leaned in closer, smirking. “You’re going to work for me, or otherwise I’m going to take down your precious friend Emily Prentiss for possession. It won’t be hard to get it into her room and no one will defend her.”

“That’s a weak plan.”

Another thump on the table and a folder appeared. Sommets opened it, spreading the contents about. “Perhaps. But I have enough here to make things much more difficult for everyone you care about. I’ve already proven I can. Or didn’t you realize it was me? Morgan’s injury, Brooks cheating on her precious boyfriend, Garcia’s disgusting ex finding her?”

Spencer felt sick. He felt scared. But most of all, he felt _trapped._ “We never did anything to you.”

 

* * *

 

JJ was crouched over Spencer, trying to hold his life inside him. Her face was a mask of horror, eyes glazed with shock and mouth hanging open. He could tell she was screaming. Aaron marvelled for a moment at how easily the bullet had torn through muscle and flesh, at how oddly calm Spencer had been as he’d fallen. How easy it was that a life could be ended.

Everything had gone silent with the echo of the gunshot in his ears, and he couldn’t hear her screams. Thank god. He knew if he could, he’d never forget them. He looked at Emily, her mouth moving frantically but soundlessly, then dropped his gaze to his hands.

The gun in his hands.

Had it always been in his hands?

 

* * *

 

Sommets’ face twisted furiously, laughing. Spit flecked Spencer’s lips and he fought the urge to wipe it off. “You ruined everything! My father died thinking I was nothing but a drug dealer, a dropkick! Because of you and your bitch friends getting me expelled for doing business with that cunt, _Prentiss_.”

He paused, breathing heavily. Spencer tried not to let his gaze drop to where the gun was hidden under Sommets’ shirt. “Well, that was the plan. Ruin you just like you ruined me. But I realized, why waste such a good thing? Clever kid like you, together we can make a fortune. And if you refuse…”

Spencer looked down at the contents of the folder. A picture of Penelope and Wyeth; Penelope’s hair and makeup dark and gothic. She looked miserable and strange. A picture of Aaron and Haley together, laughing. A doctor’s report on Derek’s knee, stressing the need for it to heal to avoid permanent damage. A picture of JJ walking home alone.

“If I refuse, you’ll hurt my friends.”

“Them for you. You’re not going to put yourself before your friends, are you, Spencer Reid?”

 

* * *

 

Spencer was standing there and telling them that it was his choice to stay, telling them to leave. Emily had turned and walked out, did the one thing she should have done from the beginning. She called for help.

When she heard the gunshot, her first thought was that it was going to hurt the ears of anyone standing by it. She walked back and saw Spencer on the ground, laying limp and discarded like a wet rag left behind by a careless cleaner. Dave curled on his side, his eyes open but unfocused. Blood on his head and in his eyes. Looking at nothing in particular, just blinking blearily. Derek was standing watching the scene, not reacting. Frozen. Aaron was staring at his hands with a perplexed expression, a gun held loosely in his fingers.

Emily strode forward, heart pumping in her ears, took the gun from Aaron’s slack grip and turned to face Sommets. Sommets was looking from Spencer’s (living) body (he fucking better be), to the gun in her hands (still warm), mouth gaping open stupidly and trying desperately to form words.

“It went off accidentally,” he stuttered. “We were fighting and it went off. It just went off.”

She heard JJ cry out behind her and her heart dropped like a stone into her stomach. _He’s dead. That cry means he’s dead._

Dead and she never said goodbye.

She stared Sommets in the eyes as her finger found the trigger.

 

* * *

 

“If I do this, you never go near my friends again.”

“It’s a promise.”

 

* * *

 

Derek’s head was spinning, thrown into a nightmare. Dave looked fucked, bleeding, still. Spencer on the ground too, but he couldn’t think about that right now, couldn’t focus on JJ screaming, her hands and clothes stained with something impossible. All he could focus on was Emily, teetering on the edge of losing everything, the gun held tightly in her hands with frightening ease. Aaron next to her; a simple act for him to reach out and take the weapon, but one glance at his shell-shocked expression told Derek that he was completely checked out.

_Because his hands were on the—_

He cut the thought off, shoved it to the back of his mind.

“Emily, don’t be stupid,” he said, hobbling forward slowly. “Don’t do it.” Emily’s eyes flickered to him and there was a truth in them he wasn’t ready to face. He heard JJ cry out behind them, saw Emily’s expression go from dazed to a cold, unfeeling mask.

His mom had looked like that the day his dad had died.

“Emily,” he said again, and he could hear a catch in his voice that he couldn’t control, feel himself leaning unsteadily towards her as though begging her to catch him when he fell. “Please. We can’t lose you, too. I need you. Spence needs you.” She turned to look at him, properly this time, and the pain in her eyes was so raw that he could feel himself drowning in it as his insides constricted with a sort of numb horror.

He was close enough now that he could reach for the gun.

He reached.

 

* * *

 

They shouldn’t be there. They couldn’t be there. He was supposed to be doing this for _them,_ to stop Sommets from hurting them. A small voice in the back of his mind whispered to him, _they wouldn’t want you to do this. They’d want to help you as well,_ but he ignored it.

“Nothing is happening. This is my choice. I’m staying here, you all need to leave.” He knew, even as he said the words that they wouldn’t listen to him. Derek’s face was set in a stubborn scowl. Aaron looked almost unhinged, mouth twisted with anger and fists balled tightly. Emily turned and walked out and he told himself it didn’t hurt.

When Aaron threw himself at Sommets, Spencer was unmoving with terror, seeing the gun in Sommets’ hands. They tussled, the gun tilted in his direction, and JJ was walking towards him. He didn’t move. He thought, _JJ, stay there._

He didn’t register the gunshot, but he felt the impact in his chest.

At least it wasn’t JJ.

 

* * *

 

There was pain, but distant. He could hear JJ crying, screaming, but he couldn’t find the strength to open his eyes. He twitched his fingers just to make sure they were still there, felt them respond sluggishly. A pressure on his chest trying to suffocate him, pressing down on his lungs and making it hard to breathe. He tried to inhale, ended up choking wetly, the pressure growing exponentially with every exhale.

_Why can’t I move?_

He thought that this might be dying.

_I don’t want to._

_Help me._

He thought he might have spoken aloud.

“I’m not ready.”

 

* * *

 

His hand twitched against her leg, his eyelids flickering slightly. “Spence? Spence, baby, I’m here.” She was pleading, voice clouded with tears and the memory of Rosaline bleeding, bleeding, stopping. She could hear sirens in the distance getting closer and silently begged them to, _hurry_.

He choked and the sound was wet, struggling. His mouth moved and she couldn’t hear the words properly even though she _needed_ to; all she heard was, _“Ready”._

No. _No._ She wasn’t ready at all.

She couldn’t say goodbye again.


	12. Beginnings

“Surprise!”

Spencer dropped his bag with a thump, staring wide-eyed around his suddenly cramped bedroom. JJ pushed him gently on his uninjured shoulder, ushering him into the room. “Close your mouth; you can’t tell me you didn’t expect this.”

Spencer stepped forward a few steps, opening and closing his mouth uselessly, feeling his face warming with a blush. “I… I actually didn’t.” Someone, probably Penelope, had set up a card table of food in the space next to his bed and hung cheerful decorations about the room. Spencer ducked under a bunch of tinsel and twined crepe paper and decided to assume that was probably Penelope as well. His friends were gathered about the room, smiling cheerfully at him. Spencer looked about, thinking about how close he’d come to losing all of this. Even Aaron was there, watching him back with solemn eyes.

He was the only one not smiling, but that wasn’t surprising. He didn’t smile much anymore.

“You set me up,” he accused JJ, looking at her beaming face. She’d offered to pick him up from the hospital and bring him home and he’d agreed, mostly to avoid Aaron lecturing him the whole way. That had been her excuse anyway. Apparently, they’d decided to party up his room while he’d been gone.

“Of course. We’re hardly not going to celebrate our little group getting back together finally, are we?” JJ said with a laugh, hugging him gingerly. His chest throbbed dully despite her care. “Well, celebrate at least a little anyway, since you and Derek are still on the good stuff.”

Derek chuckled, raising his bottle of orange juice from where he was carefully propped on the bed. They’d raised his leg with cushions and what looked like a stack of Spencer’s psychology textbooks. “And celebrate we shall, with the delicious spread my Babygirl put together for us. All your favourites, Pretty Boy. Which means everything is pretty much guaranteed to cause diabetes in those of us with normal metabolisms.”

Spencer laughed and sat cautiously on the end of the bed, avoiding Derek’s leg. “Thanks, everyone. I missed this…” He stopped, looking down at Emily who was sitting quietly on the floor at the end of the bed. “I missed you guys.” She reached out and hugged his legs with one arm, tucking her head against his thigh. He could feel her breath through his pants, a spark of concern firing up in his brain. She kept her gaze averted, looking determinedly at the floor instead of his face. “What’s wrong?” he asked, alarm making his voice shriller than intended. The concern grew sharply when her reticence spread throughout the room, every smile vanishing.

“Not now, Spence,” JJ said, glancing nervously at Dave, picking absently at the bandage on his head. There was a SpongeBob sticker stuck across it, a one-armed Patrick waving back at them. “It can wait till later. Just enjoy this, all of us together.”

“While there still is a together anyway,” Aaron said softly.

Spencer’s heart dropped.

 

* * *

 

Penelope felt her insides clench as Spencer’s thin face drained of blood. She hated seeing him look so pale and scared, the memory of him lying unconscious and covered in wires and tubes in a hospital bed still raw.

“I’m leaving,” Emily mumbled into Spencer’s leg, her hair hiding her expression. “At the end of the semester, I’m leaving to study abroad… with my mom.”

“But why? That’s only a month away. We only have a month left?” Spencer asked, looking around and realizing he was clearly the last to know, his misery mixing with betrayal.

“She made her mom a deal,” Aaron announced, his voice cold. “She got her mom to pull some strings to stop Penelope from getting arrested, in return for them both to agree to work for her.”

Spencer’s eyes were on her now. “Turns out they’ve had their eyes on me for a while. It’s a government job, Spence, they want me and my glorious hacking skills somewhere they can make sure I’m not using them for evil.” She paused, swallowing around an increasingly dry throat. _Do not cry, Penelope. If you start crying, JJ will cry and then Derek, and Aaron, if he remembers how._ “And this way I’m still with Em and not stuck in some tiny cave in an FBI office job…”

“This is my fault,” Spencer said loudly, and they _knew_ he would blame himself. “This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t tried to find me.”

“Dave’s going, too. That’s not your fault,” Aaron added, his face twisting. “That’s all on me.”

“Shut up Aaron,” snapped Dave, as Spencer turned to stare at him now. “It’s my choice alone. And since we’re sharing, to stop Bambi here from staring at me like I just shot his mom, how about you share your news?”

“You’re going, too?” Spencer said, voice rising sharply. Penelope thought that maybe she wasn’t going to be the first to cry after all, judging by the reddening of his eyes. _Hello therapy,_ she thought and almost giggled. They were giving out abandonment issues like candy today.

“No, I’m…” Aaron paused and for a moment he looked frozen. “I’m going to be a dad. Haley’s pregnant. I’ve asked her to marry me.” No one cheered. No one congratulated him. There was a haunted silence for a moment; JJ and Emily shared a long, horrified look. Dave itched at his nose and looked at nothing. Spencer just… stared.

There was a long beat, and JJ stepped forward. Of course she did. “Congratulations,” she said, hugging him tightly, and like a dam breaking, everyone else followed. The room filled with the sound of forced cheer.

Spencer still looked like he was about to cry, even as he joined in the revelry.

Her shoulder brushed against Dave’s, keeping his distance from the celebration. “Why are you going?” she asked him tenderly, watching Spencer smiling stiffly and patting Aaron on the shoulder.  

“He’s going to marry her,” Dave replied, keeping his voice low so only she could hear. “He’s going to marry her, and they’re having a baby and he’s going to be a great dad. And I almost came between that once.”

“So your solution is to run away?”

“And you’re not? You could do the same work, while studying, here. You’re going with Emily because it’s easier than facing your problems.”

Penelope flinched. “I’m going with Emily because it’s a wonderful opportunity and because she shouldn’t be alone with her mom.”

“And Spencer?”

“Has JJ, and Derek, and even Aaron. Besides, he’s come a long way. He’s not the same lonely kid we met at the start of the semester. He’ll do fine. One day our little genius is going to have his future come knocking at his door, and he needs to know it’s ok to move on.” Besides, Penelope thought as they watched their friends, they were family. And no matter how far away family was from one another, they still loved each other.

Nothing could change that.

 

* * *

 

JJ was standing by her sister’s grave when she heard the now familiar swish of crutches in the leaves behind her. She turned, raising an eyebrow when she saw Derek hobbling towards her. “It’s creepy that you’re here, I hope you know that.”

“We didn’t stalk you,” he replied, stopping next to her. “It’s beautiful here.”

JJ looked down at the spray of wildflowers her mom had planted on Rosaline’s grave. “It is. And if you didn’t stalk me, how did you find me?”

“Called your mom. She’s letting us crash at yours, by the way. Your dad is a fan of me.” He winked.

Good god, Derek had turned the charm on her parents. Wait… “We?”

He grinned at her, shrugging his shoulders. “Well… I can’t drive with my leg. And it turns out Spencer is a huge fan of car rides. The kid has a collection of books on CD, did you know? Well, we do now. For _sixteen_ hours.”

“Spence can’t drive.”

There was a low chuckle behind her. “No, but I can.” Huh. An Aaron laugh. A rare sound.

Spencer walked up to her and threaded his arm around her waist, pulling her close. “You’ve been withdrawn since Pen and Emily left. We were worried.” Aaron and Derek stepped up on either side of them, the four of them in a wobbly line.

“Sixteen hours in the car with your audiobooks worried?” she teased him.

“It was better than Derek’s iPod,” Aaron said. “I hope we’re not intruding. Derek was very persuasive.”

Spencer was looking down at the photo of JJ and Rosaline set into the gravestone. “She looked like you, Jayge.”

“We were so alike. I was so jealous of her, always stealing her clothes and jewellery,” JJ replied, feeling her eyes sting. “I wish she was here. You guys… I’ve made such amazing friends this year. I want to introduce you all to her.”

Derek took her free hand and squeezed it slightly. “You don’t have to introduce us, JJ. We can see her every time we look at you.”

She clasped his hand in return, blinking back tears. “That night, when you got shot, Spence, I thought I was going to lose you as well. I thought you were going to die in that room, and we were going to have to bury you and all we’d have left of your life was five months of memories. I keep having the same dream where I’m standing here alone, looking down on two graves.”

“I’m still here, JJ,” Spencer murmured, a warm and _alive_ presence by her side. “I’m still here, and I’m always going to be here. We have a lifetime of memories still to come.”

Aaron spoke and his voice was more open than any of them had ever heard it before. “I don’t know the future, I don’t know what’s coming for any of us, and that’s terrifying.” He looked away and she knew he was thinking of Dave. “But we’re going to face it together, Jennifer. Like we should have from the beginning.”

 

* * *

 

He was walking through campus enjoying the weather when Professor Blake stepped out of her office and called him over. “Spencer! How are you? How’s your shoulder?” she asked with a smile. “I heard your dissertation got accepted, the first of many I bet, Doctor.”

“Thanks, Professor,” he replied, smiling brightly at the strangeness of being called doctor. Garcia had sent him a pillow liberally embroidered with the word, and Derek had taken to shouting _‘can we get a doctor in here?’_ every time Spencer walked into a room, but it was still a big adjustment to make. “It’s healing, slowly. My physical therapist says I’ll get full motion back soon.”

She nodded, ushering him inside. “That’s wonderful. Spencer, there’s someone I want you to meet. He’s seen your work and was fascinated; he asked to speak with you.”

Spencer followed her in curiously. The man sitting in front of her desk stood, holding his hand out for Spencer to shake.

“Dr. Reid,” he said, dark eyes piercing him. Spencer felt like he was being studied, as though the man could see straight into his soul. “My name is Jason Gideon, and I work for the profiling unit of the FBI. I’d love to discuss some of your theories.”

**Author's Note:**

> **Edited August, 2017.**


End file.
